THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
Robert  8.    Campbell 


H 


THE  •  HUSBANDS 
EDITH 


OTHER    BOOKS    BY 
MR.  McCUTCHEON 

NEDRA 

BEVERLY  OF  GRAUSTARK 

THE  DAY  OF  THE  DOG 

THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

THE  SHERRODS 

GRAUSTARK 
CASTLE  CRANEYCROW 
BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS 

JANE  CABLE 
COWARDICE  COURT 

THE  DAUGHTER 

OF  ANDERSON  CROW 

THE  FLYERS 


Don't  you  think  Connie  is  a  perieft  dear :  ' 

(page  50) 


THE 

HUSBANDS 
OF -EDITH 


BY 


GEORGE-BARR*MCCUTCHEON 


WIThHLLUSTRATIONS  -BY 

HARRISON- FISHER 

AND  •  DECORATIONS  -BY 

ThEODORE-B-  H  APGOOD 


NEW  YORKU9O3 


DODD,  MEAD  8  COMPANY 


I 
I 


Copyright,  1908 
BY  DODD,   MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


Published  April,    1908 


THE    UNIVERSITY    JRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,    V.  S.  A 


A1  w  rL 

CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I     HUSBANDS  AND  WIFE 


PAGE 


II  THE  SISTER-IN-LAW  ........  17 

III  THE  DISTANT  COUSINS  .......  37 

IV  THE  WOULD-BE  BROTHER-IN-LAW    ...  51 
V  THE  FRIENDS  OF  THE  FAMILY     .     .          -  7° 

VI  OTHER  RELATIONS     ........  87 

VII  THE  THREE  GUARDIANS     ......  102 

VIII  THE  PRODIGAL   HUSBAND     ......  116 


.; 


"'Don't   you   think   Connie  is  a  perfect 

dear  ? ' :"  (page  50) Frontispiece 

Brock Facing  page    24 

Katherine  .  " 

"  She    began    to    detect    a    decided 

falling  off  in  his  ardour  "  .     ..          " 

" '  I  do  love  you,'  she  said  simply  "  .          " 


44 


74 


98 


The  Husbands  of  Edith 


CHAPTER   I 

HUSBANDS    AND    WIFE 

BROCK  was  breakfasting  out-of-doors  in  the  cheer 
ful  little  garden  of  the  Hotel  Chatham.  The  sun 
streamed  warmly  upon  the  concrete  floor  of  the 
court  just  beyond  the  row  of  palms  and  oleanders  that 
fringed  the  rail  against  which  his  Herald  rested,  that  he 
might  read  as  he  ran,  so  to  speak.  He  was  the  only  person 
having  dejeuner  on  the  "  terrace,"  as  he  named  it  to  the 
obsequious  waiter  who  always  attended  him.  Charles  was 
the  magnet  that  drew  Brock  to  the  Chatham  (that  excellent 
French  hotel  with  the  excellent  English  name).  It  is  be 
side  the  question  to  remark  that  one  is  obliged  to  reverse 
the  English  when  directing  a  cocher  to  the  Chatham.  The 
Paris  cabman  looks  blank  and  more  than  usually  unintelli 
gent  when  directed  to  drive  to  the  C$ff/ham,  but  his  face 
radiates  with  joy  when  his  fare  is  inspired  to  substitute 
Sha-f'rfw,  with  distinct  emphasis  on  the  final  syllable.  Then 
he  cracks  his  whip  and  lashes  his  sorry  nag,  with  passive 
appreciation  of  his  own  astuteness,  all  the  way  to  the  Rue 
Daunou.  The  street  is  so  short  that  he  almost  invariably 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

takes  one  to  //  instead  of  to  the  hotel  itself.     But  one  must 
say  Sha-/'0/H  / 

Charles  was  standing,  alert  but  pensive,  quite  near  at 
hand,  ready  to  replenish  the  bowl  with  honey  (Brock  was 
especially  fond  of  it),  but  with  his  eyes  cocked  inquir 
ingly,  even  eagerly,  in  the  direction  of  an  upstairs  win 
dow  across  the  court,  beyond  which  a  thoughtless  guest 
of  the  establishment  was  making  her  toilette  in  blissful 
ignorance  of  the  fact  that  the  flimsy  curtains  were  not 
tightly  drawn.  Brock  had  gone  to  the  Chatham  for  years 
just  because  Charles  was  a  fixture  there.  Charles  spoke 
the  most  execrably  picturesque  English,  served  with  a 
punctiliousness  that  savoured  almost  of  the  overbearing,  and 
boasted  that  he  had  acquired  the  art  of  making  American 
cocktails  in  the  Waldorf  during  a  five  weeks'  residence  in 
the  United  States. 

It  was  a  lazy  morning.  Brock  was  happy.  He  was 
even  interested  when  a  porter  came  forth  and  unravelled 
a  long  roll  of  garden  hose,  with  which  he  abruptly  began 
to  splash  water  upon  the  concrete  surface  of  the  court  with 
out  regard  for  distance  or  direction.  Moreover,  he  pro 
ceeded  to  water  the  palms  at  Brock's  elbow,  operating  from 
a  spot  no  less  than  twenty  feet  away.  He  likewise  was 
casting  inquiring  glances  at  divers  windows  —  few  if  any  at 
the  plants  —  until  the  faithful  Charles  restored  him  to 
earth  by  means  of  certain  subdued  injunctions  and  less  mod 
erate  gesticulations,  from  which  it  could  be  readily  gathered 
that  "  M'sieur  was  eating,  not  bathing."  Whereupon  the 
utterly  uncrushed  porter  splashed  water  at  right  angles, 
much  to  Brock's  relief,  while  all  his  fellow  porters,  free  or 
engaged,  took  up  the  quarrel  with  rare  disregard  for  cause 
or  justice.  Afemme  de  chambre,  from  a  convenient  window, 


Husbands   and   Wife 

joined  in  the  hubbub  without  in  the  least  knowing  what  it 
was  all  about.  Monsieur's  comfort  must  be  preserved : 
that  seemed  to  be  the  issue  in  which,  at  once,  all  were 
united.  "  M'sieur  will  pardon  the  boy,"  apologised  Charles 
in  deepest  humility,  taking  much  for  granted.  "  It  will 
be  very  warm  to-day.  Your  serviette,  M'sieur  —  it  is  damp. 
Pardon  !  "  He  flew  away  and  back  with  another  napkin. 
"  Of  course,  M'sieur,  the  Chatham  is  not  the  Waldorf," 
he  announced  deprecatingly.  "  Parbleu"  beating  himself 
on  the  forehead,  "  I  forgot !  M'sieur  does  not  like  the 
Waldorf.  Eby  blen,  Paris  is  not  New  York,  no."  Having 
sufficiently  humbled  Paris,  he  withdrew  into  the  background, 
rubbing  his  hands  as  if  he  were  cleansing  them  of  something 
unsightly.  Brock  spread  one  of  the  buttered  biscuits  with 
honey  and  inwardly  admitted  that  Paris  was  not  New  York. 

He  was  a  good-looking  chap  of  thirty  or  thereabouts,  an 
American  to  the  core,  —  bright-eyed,  keen-witted,  smooth 
faced,  virile.  From  boyhood's  earliest  days  he  had  spent  a 
portion  of  his  summers  in  Europe.  Two  or  three  years 
of  his  life  had  been  employed  in  the  Beaux  Arts,  — -  fruitful 
years,  for  Brock  had  not  wasted  his  opportunities.  He  had 
gone  in  for  architecture  and  building.  To-day  he  stood 
high  among  tl  e  younger  men  in  New  York,  —  prosperous, 
successful,  and  a  menace  to  the  old  cry  that  a  son  of  the 
rich  cannot  thrive  in  his  father's  domain.  Nowadays  he 
came  to  the  Old  World  for  his  breathing  spells.  He  was 
able  to  combine  dawdling  and  development  without  sac 
rificing  one  for  the  other,  wherein  lies  the  proof  that  his 
vacations  were  not  akin  to  those  taken  by  most  of  us. 

The  fortnight  in  Paris  was  to  be  followed  by  a  week 
in  St.  Petersburg  and  a  brief  tour  of  Sweden  and  Norway. 
His  stay  in  the  gay  city  was  drawing  to  a  close.  That 

[3] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

very  morning  he  expected  to  book  for  St.  Petersburg, 
leaving  in  three  days. 

Suddenly  his  glance  fell  upon  a  name  in  the  society 
column  before  him,  "  Roxbury  Medcroft."  His  face 
lighted  up  with  genuine  pleasure.  An  old  friend,  a  boon 
companion  in  bygone  days,  was  this  same  Medcroft,  —  a 
broad-minded,  broad-gauged  young  Englishman  who  had 
profited  by  a  stay  of  some  years  in  the  States.  They  had 
studied  together  in  Paris  and  they  had  toiled  together  in 
New  York.  This  is  what  he  read :  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rox 
bury  Medcroft,  of  London,  are  stopping  at  the  Ritz,  en 
route  to  Vienna.  Mr.  Medcroft  will  attend  the  meeting  of 
Austrian  Architects,  to  be  held  there  next  week,  and,  with 
his  wife,  will  afterwards  spend  a  fortnight  in  the  German 
Alps,  the  guests  of  the  Alfred  Rodneys,  of  Seattle." 

"  Dear  old  Rox,  I  must  look  him  up  at  once,"  mused 
Brock.  "  The  Rodneys  of  Seattle  ?  Never  heard  of 'em." 
He  looked  at  his  watch,  signed  his  check,  deposited  the 
usual  franc,  acknowledged  Charles's  well-practised  smile  of 
thanks,  and  pushed  back  his  chair,  his  gaze  travelling  in 
voluntarily  toward  the  portals  of  the  American  bar  across 
the  court,  just  beyond  the  conciergis  quarters.  Simulta 
neously  a  tall  figure  emerged  from  the  bar,  casting  eager 
glances  in  all  directions,  —  a  tall  figure  in  a  checked  suit, 
bowler  hat,  white  reindeer  gloves,  high  collar,  and  grey 
spats.  Brock  came  to  his  feet  quickly.  The  monocle 
dropped  from  the  other's  eye,  and  his  long  legs  carried  him 
eagerly  toward  the  American. 

"  Medcroft !  Bless  your  heart  !  I  was  just  on  the  point 
of  looking  you  up  at  the  Ritz.  It's  good  to  see  you," 
Brock  cried  as  they  clasped  hands. 

"  Of  all  the  men  and  of  all  the  times,  Brock,  you  are 

[4] 


Husbands   and    Wife 

the  most  opportune,"  exclaimed  the  other.  "  I  saw  that 
you  were  here  and  bolted  my  breakfast  to  catch  you. 
These  beastly  telephones  never  work.  Oh,  I  say,  old 
man,  have  you  finished  yours  ?  " 

"Quite  —  but  luckily  I  didn't  have  to  bolt  it.  You're 
off  for  Vienna,  I  see.  Sit  down,  Rox.  Won't  you  have 
another  egg  and  a  cup  of  coffee  ?  Do  !  " 

"  Thanks  and  no  to  everything  you  suggest.  Wot  you 
doing  for  the  next  half-hour  or  so  ?  I  'm  in  a  deuce  of 
a  dilemma  and  you  've  got  to  help  me  out  of  it."  The 
Englishman  looked  at  his  watch  and  fumbled  it  nervously 
as  he  replaced  it  in  his  upper  coat  pocket.  "  That 's  a 
good  fellow,  Brock.  You  will  be  the  ever  present  help 
in  time  of  trouble,  won't  you  ? " 

"  My  letter  of  credit  is  at  your  disposal,  old  man,"  said 
Brock  promptly.  He  meant  it.  It  readily  may  be  seen 
from  this  that  their  friendship  is  no  small  item  to  be  con 
sidered  in  the  development  of  this  tale. 

u  My  dear  fellow,  that 's  the  very  thing  I  'm  eager  to 
thrust  upon  you  —  my  letter  of  credit,"  exclaimed  the 
other. 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  demanded  Brock. 

"  I  say,  Brock,  can't  we  go  up  to  your  rooms  ?  Dead 
secret,  you  know.  '  Really,  old  chap,  I  mean  it.  No  one 
must  get  a  breath  of  it.  That 's  why  I  'm  whispering. 
I  'm  not  a  lunatic,  so  don't  stare  like  that.  I  'd  do  as 
much  for  you  if  the  conditions  were  reversed." 

u  I  dare  say  you  would,  Rox,  but  what  the  devil  is  it  you 
want  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Do  I  appear  to  be  agitated  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so." 

u  Well,  I  am.  You  know  how  I  loathe  asking  a  favour 
[5] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

of  anyone.  Besides,  it's  rather  an  extraordinary  one  I'm 
going  to  ask  of  you.  Came  to  me  in  a  flash  this  morning 
when  I  saw  your  name  in  the  paper.  Sort  of  inspira 
tion,  'pon  my  word.  I  think  Edith  sees  it  the  same  as 
I,  although  I  have  n't  had  time  to  go  into  it  thoroughly 
with  her.  She 's  ripping,  you  know ;  pluck  to  the  very 
core." 

Brock's  face  expressed  bewilderment  and  perplexity. 

"  Won't  you  have  another  drink,  old  man  ?  "  he  asked 
gently. 

"  Another  ?  Hang  it  all,  I  have  n't  had  one  in  a  week. 
Come  along.  I  must  talk  it  all  over  with  you  before  I 
introduce  you  to  her.  You  must  be  prepared." 

u  Introduce  me  to  whom  ?  "  demanded  Brock,  pricking 
up  his  ears.  He  was  following  Medcroft  to  the  elevator. 

"  To  my  wife  —  Edith,"  said  Medcroft,  annoyed  by  the 
other's  obtuseness. 

"  Does  it  require  preparation  for  an  ordeal  so  charming  ?  " 
laughed  Brock.  He  was  recalling  the  fact  that  Medcroft 
had  married  a  beautiful  Philadelphia  girl  some  years  ago 
in  London,  a  young  lady  whom  he  had  never  seen,  so 
thoroughly  expatriated  had  she  become  in  consequence  of 
almost  a  lifetime  residence  in  England.  He  remembered 
now  that  she  was  rich  and  that  he  had  sent  her  a  ridiculously 
expensive  present  and  a  congratulatory  cablegram  at  the 
time  of  the  wedding.  Also,  it  occurred  to  him  that  the 
Medcrofts  had  asked  him  to  visit  them  at  their  shooting- 
box  for  several  seasons  in  succession,  and  that  their  town 
house  was  always  open  to  him.  While  he  had  not  ignored 
the  invitations,  he  had  never  responded  in  person.  He 
began  to  experience  twinges  of  remorse :  Medcroft  was 
such  a  good  fellow  ! 


Husbands   and    Wife 

The  Londoner  did  not  respond  to  the  innocuous  query. 
He  merely  stared  in  a  preoccupied,  determined  manner  at 
the  succeeding  etages  as  they  slipped  downward.  At  the 
fourth  floor  they  disembarked,  and  Brock  led  the  way  to 
his  rooms,  overlooking  the  inner  court.  Once  inside,  with 
the  door  closed,  he  turned  upon  the  Englishman. 

"  Now,  what 's  up,  Rox  ?  Are  you  in  trouble  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

"  Are  we  quite  alone  ?  "  Medcroft  glanced  significantly 
at  the  transom  and  the  half-closed  bathroom  door.  With 
a  laugh,  Brock  led  him  into  the  bathroom  and  out,  and 
then  closed  the  transom. 

"•  You  're  darned  mysterious,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  chair 
near  the  window.  Medcroft  drew  another  close  up  and 
seated  himself. 

"  Brock,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice  and  leaning  for 
ward  impressively,  "  I  want  you  to  go  to  Vienna  in  my 
place."  Brock  stared  hard.  "  You  are  a  godsend,  old 
man.  You  're  just  in  time  to  do  me  the  greatest  of 
favours.  It 's  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  go  to  Vienna 
as  I  had  planned,  and  yet  it  is  equally  unwise  for  me  to 
give  up  the  project.  You  see,  I  've  just  got  to  be  in 
London  and  Vienna  at  the  same  time." 

u  It  will  require  something  more  than  a  stretch  of  the 
imagination  to  do  that,  old  man.  But  I  'm  game,  and  my 
plans  are  such  that  they  can  be  changed  readily  to  oblige 
a  friend.  I  shan't  mind  the  trip  in  the  least  and  I  '11  be 
only  too  happy  to  help  you  out  !  'Gad,  I  thought  by  your 
manner  that  you  were  in  some  frightful  difficulty.  Have 
a  cigaret." 

"  By  Jove,  Brock,  you  're  a  brick,"  cried  Medcroft, 
shaking  the  other's  hand  vigorously.  At  the  same  time 

[7] 


The   Husbands   of   Edith 

his  face  expressed  considerable  uncertainty  and  no  little 
doubt  as  to  the  further  welfare  of  his  as  yet  partially 
divulged  proposition. 

"  It 's  easy  to  be  a  brick,  my  boy,  if  it  involves  no 
more  than  the  changing  of  a  single  letter  in  one's  name. 
I  'd  like  to  attend  the  convention,  anyway,"  said  Brock 
amiably. 

"  Well,  you  see,  Brock,"  said  Medcroft  lamely,  "  I  fear 
you  don't  quite  appreciate  the  situation.  I  want  you  to 
pose  as  Roxbury  Medcroft." 

"  You  —     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you'd  find  that  a  facer.  That's  just  it :  you 
are  to  go  to  Vienna  as  Roxbury  Medcroft,  not  as  yourself. 
Ha,  ha  !  Ripping,  eh  ?  " 

"'Pon  my  soul,  Rox,  you  are  not  in  earnest?" 

"  Never  more  so." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow  —  " 

"  You  won't  do  it  ?  That 's  what  your  tone  means,"  in 
despair. 

"  It  is  n't  that,  and  you  know  it.  I  've  got  nothing  to 
lose.  It 's  you  that  will  have  to  suffer.  You  're  known  all 
over  Europe.  What  will  be  said  when  the  trick  is  dis 
covered  ?  'Gad,  man  !  " 

"  Then  you  will  go  ?  "  with  beaming  eyes.  "  I  knew 
it  would  appeal  to  you,  as  an  American." 

"  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  " 

"  It 's  all  very  simple,  if  one  looks  at  it  from  the  right 
angle,  Brock.  Up  to  last  night,  I  was  blissfully  committed 
to  the  most  delightful  of  outings,  so  to  speak.  At  ten 
o'clock  everything  was  changed.  Mrs.  Medcroft  and  I 
sat  up  all  night  discussing  the  situation  with  the  messenger 
—  my  solicitor,  by  the  way.  The  Vienna  trip  is  out  of 

[8] 


Husbands    and    Wife 

the  question,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  It  is  of  vital 
importance  that  I  should  return  to  London  to-night,  but 
is  even  more  vitally  important  that  the  world  should  say 
that  I  am  in  Vienna.  See  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"  No,  I  'm  hanged  if  I  do." 

"  What  I  have  just  heard  from  London  makes  me 
shudder  to  think  of  the  consequences  if  I  go  on  east  to 
night.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  there  is  a  plot  on  foot 
to  perpetrate  a  gigantic  fraud  against  the  people.*  The 
County  Council  is  to  be  hoodwinked  out  and  out  into 
moving  forward  certain  building  projects,  involving  millions 
of  the  people's  money.  Our  firm  has  opposed  a  certain 
band  of  grafters,  and  when  I  left  England  it  was  pretty 
well  settled  that  we  had  blocked  their  game.  They  have 
learned  of  my  proposed  absence  and  intend  to  steal  a  march 
on  us  while  I  am  away.  Without  assuming  too  much 
credit  to  myself,  I  may  say  that  I,  your  old  friend, 
Roxbury,  I  am  the  one  man  who  has  proved  the  real 
thorn  in  the  sides  of  these  scoundrels.  With  me  out  of 
the  way,  they  feel  that  they  can  secure  the  adoption  of  all 
these  infamous  measures.  My  partners  and  the  leaders  on 
our  side  have  sent  for  me  to  return  secretly.  They  won't 
bring  the  matter  to  issue  if  they  find  that  I  've  returned  ; 
it  would  be  suicidal.  Therefore  it  is  necessary  that  we 
steal  a  march  on  'em.  I  know  the  inside  workings  of  the 
scheme.  If  I  can  steal  back  and  keep  under  cover  as  an 
advisory  chief,  so  to  speak,  we  can  well  afford  to  let  'em 
rush  the  matter  through,  for  then  we  can  spring  the  coup 
and  defeat  them  for  good  and  all.  But,  don't  you  see, 
old  man,  unless  they  know  that  I  've  gone  to  Vienna  they 
won't  undertake  the  thing.  That 's  why  I  'm  asking  you 
to  go  on  to  Vienna  and  pose  as  Roxbury  Medcroft  while 

[9] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

I  steal  back  to  London  and  set  the  charge  under  these 
demmed  bloodsuckers.  Really,  you  know,  it 's  a  terribly 
serious  matter,  Brock.  It  means  fortune  and  honour  to 
me,  as  well  as  millions  to  the  rate-payers  of  Greater 
London.  All  you  've  got  to  do  is  to  register  at  the  Bristol, 
get  interviewed  by  the  papers,  attend  one  or  two  sessions 
of  the  convention,  which  lasts  three  days,  and  then  go  off 
into  the  mountains  with  the  Rodneys, —  the  society  re 
porters  will  do  the  rest." 

"•  With  the  Rodneys  ?  My  dear  fellow,  suppose  that 
they  object  to  the  substitution  !  Really,  you  know,  it 's  not 
to  be  thought  of." 

"  Deuce  take  it,  man,  the  Rodneys  are  not  to  know  that 
there  has  been  a  substitution.  Perfectly  simple,  can't  you 
see  ?  " 

"  I  'm  damned  if  I  do." 

"What  a  stupid  ass  you  are,  Brock!  The  Rodneys 
have  never  laid  eyes  on  me.  They  know  of  me  as  Edith's 
husband,  that 's  all.  They  are  to  take  you  in  as  Medcroft, 
of  course." 

At  this  point  Brock  set  up  an  emphatic  remonstrance. 
He  began  by  laughing  his  friend  to  scorn  ;  then,  as  Med 
croft  persisted,  went  so  far  as  to  take  him  severely  to  task 
for  the  proposed  imposition  on  the  unsuspecting  Rodneys, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  trick  he  would  play  upon  the  conven 
tion  of  architects. 

"I'd  be  recognised  as  an  impostor,"  he  said  warmly, 
"  and  booted  out  of  the  convention.  I  shudder  to  think 
of  what  Mr.  Rodney  will  do  to  me  when  he  learns  the 
truth.  Why,  Medcroft,  you  must  be  crazy.  There  will 
be  dozens  of  architects  there  who  know  you  personally  or 
by  sight.  You  —  " 

[10] 


Husbands   and    Wife 

"  My  dear  boy,  if  they  don't  see  me  there,  they  can't 
very  well  recognise  me,  can  they  ?  If  necessary,  you  can 
affect  an  illness  and  stay  away  from  the  sessions  altogether. 
Give  a  statement  to  the  press  from  the  privacy  of  the  sick 
room —  regret  your  inability  to  take  part  in  the  discussions, 
and  all  that,  you  know.  Hire  a  nurse,  if  necessary.  You 
might  venture  to  express  an  opinion  or  two  on  vital  topics, 
in  my  name.  I  don't  care  a  hang  what  you  say.  I  only 
want  'em  to  think  I  'm  there.  No  doubt  our  enemies  will 
have  a  spy  or  two  hanging  about  to  see  that  I  am  actually 
off  for  a  jaunt  with  the  Rodneys,  but  they  will  be  Viennese 
and  they  won't  know  me  from  Adam.  What 's  the  odds, 
so  long  as  Edith  is  there  to  stand  by  you  ?  If  she  's  willing 
to  assume  that  you  are  her  husband  —  " 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  half  shouted  Brock,  leaping  to  his  feet, 
wide-eyed.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  she  is  —  is  —  is 
to  go  to  Vienna  with  me  ? " 

"Emphatically,  yes.  She's  also  invited.  Of  course, 
she's  going." 

"  You  mean  that  she  's  going  just  as  you  are  going  — 
by  proxy?  "  murmured  Brock  helplessly. 

"  Proxy,  the  devil !  'Pon  my  soul,  Brock,  you  're  down 
right  stupid.  She  can't  have  a  proxy.  They  know  her. 
The  Rodneys  are  in  some  way  connections  of  hers,  and  all 
that  —  third  cousins.  If  she  isn't  there  to  vouch  for  you, 
how  the  deuce  can  you  expect  to  —  " 

u  Medcroft,  you  are  crazy  !  No  one  but  an  insane  man 
would  submit  his  wife  to  —  Why,  good  Lord,  man,  think 
of  the  scandal  !  She  won't  have  a  shred  left  — <• " 

"At  the  proper  time  the  matter  will  be  explained  to  the 
Rodneys,  —  not  at  first,  you  know,  —  and  I  '11  be  in  a 
position  to  step  into  your  shoes  before  the  party  returns  to 


The   Husbands   of   Edith 

Paris.  Afterwards  the  whole  trick  will  be  exposed  to  the 
world,  and  she  '11  be  a  heroine." 

"  I  'm  absolutely  paralysed  !  "  mumbled  Brock. 

"  Brace  up,  old  chap.  I  'm  going  to  take  you  around  to 
the  Ritz  at  once  to  introduce  you  to  my  wife  —  to  your  wife, 
I  might  say.  She  '11  be  waiting  for  us,  and,  take  my  word 
for  it,  she  's  in  for  the  game.  She  appreciates  its  impor 
tance.  Come  now,  Brock,  it  means  so  little  to  you,  and 
it  means  everything  to  me.  You  will  do  this  for  me  ? 
For  us  ? " 

For  ten  minutes  Brock  protested,  his  argument  growing 
weaker  and  weaker  as  the  true  humour  of  the  project  de 
veloped  in  his  mind.  He  came  at  last  to  realise  that 
Medcroft  was  in  earnest,  and  that  the  situation  was  as 
serious  as  he  pictured  it.  The  Englishman's  plea  was 
unusual,  but  it  was  not  as  rattle-brained  as  it  had  seemed 
at  the  outset.  Brock  was  beginning  to  see  the  possibilities 
that  the  ruse  contained ;  to  say  the  least,  he  would  be  run 
ning  little  or  no  risk  in  the  event  of  its  miscarriage.  In 
spite  of  possible  unpleasant  consequences,  there  were  the 
elements  of  a  rare  lark  in  the  enterprise ;  he  felt  himself 
being  skilfully  guided  past  the  pitfalls  and  dangers. 

"  I  shall  insist  upon  talking  it  over  thoroughly  with  Mrs. 
Medcroft  before  consenting,"  he  said  in  the  end.  "  If 
she  's  being  bluffed  into  the  game,  I  '11  revoke  like  a  flash. 
If  she  's  keen  for  the  adventure,  I  '11  go,  Rox.  But  I  've 
got  to  see  her  first  and  talk  it  all  over  — " 

"'Pon  my  word,  old  chap,  she's  ripping,  awfully  good 
sort,  even  though  I  say  it  myself.  She's  true  blue,  and 
she  '11  do  anything  for  me.  You  see,  Brock,"  and  his  voice 
grew  very  tender,  "  she  loves  me.  I  'm  sure  of  her. 
There  is  n't  a  nobler  wife  in  the  world  than  mine.  Nor  a 

[12] 


Husbands   and   Wife 

prettier  one,  either,"  he  concluded,  with  fine  pride  in  his 
eyes.  "  You  won't  be  ashamed  of  her.  You  will  be 
proud  of  the  chance  to  point  her  out  as  your  wife,  take 
my  word  for  it."  Then  they  set  out  for  the  Ritz. 

"  Roxbury,"  said  Brock  soberly,  when  they  were  in  the 
Rue  de  la  Paix,  after  walking  two  blocks  in  contemplative 
silence,  "  my  peace  of  mind  is  poised  at  the  brink  of  an 
abyss.  I  have  a  feeling  that  I  am  about  to  chuck  it  over." 

"  Nonsense.  You  '11  buck  up  when  Edith  has  had  a 
fling  at  you." 

"  I  suppose  I  'm  to  call  her  Edith." 

"  Certainly,  and  I  won't  mind  a  ldear'  or  two  when  it 
seems  propitious.  It 's  rather  customary,  you  know,  even 
among  the  unhappily  married.  Of  course,  I  've  always 
been  opposed  to  kissing  or  caressing  in  public ;  it 's  so 
middle-class." 

"And  I  daresay  Mrs.  Medcroft  will  object  to  it  in 
private,"  lamented  Brock  good-naturedly. 

"  I  daresay,"  said  her  husband  cheerfully.  "  She  's  your 
wife  in  public  only.  By  the  way,  you  '11  have  to  get  used 
to  the  name  of  Roxbury.  Don't  look  around  as  if  you 
expected  to  find  me  standing  behind  your  back  when  she 
says,  c  Roxbury,  dear !  '  I  shan't  be  there,  you  know. 
She  '11  mean  you.  Don't  forget  that." 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  exclaimed  Brock,  halting  abruptly,  and 
staring  in  dismay  at  the  confident  conspirator,  "  will  I  have 
to  wear  a  suit  of  clothes  like  that,  and  an  eyeglass,  and  — 
and  —  good  Lord  !  spats  ?  " 

"  By  Jove,  you  shall  wear  this  very  suit  !  "  cried  Med 
croft,  inspired.  "  We  're  of  a  size,  and  it  won't  fit  you 
any  better  than  it  does  me.  Our  clothes  never  fit  us  in 
London.  Clever  idea  of  yours,  Brock,  to  think  of  it. 

t'3] 


The   Husbands   of   Edith 

And,  here  !  We  '11  stop  at  this  shop  and  pick  up  a  glass. 
You  can  have  all  day  for  practice  with  it.  And,  I  say, 
Brock,  don't  you  think  you  can  cultivate  a  —  er  —  little 
more  of  an  English  style  of  speech  ?  That  twang  of 
yours  won't  —  " 

"  Heavens,  man,  I  'm  to  be  a  low  comedian,  too," 
gasped  Brock,  as  he  was  fairly  pushed  onto  the  shop. 
Three  minutes  later  they  were  on  the  sidewalk,  and  Brock 
was  in  possession  of  an  object  he  had  scorned  most  of  all 
things  in  the  world,  —  a  monocle. 

Arm  in  arm,  they  sauntered  into  the  Ritz.  Medcroft 
retained  his  clasp  on  his  friend's  elbow  as  they  went  up  in 
the  lift,  after  the  fashion  of  one  who  fears  that  his  victim  is 
contemplating  flight.  As  they  entered  the  comfortable  little 
sitting-room  of  the  suite,  a  young  woman  rose  gracefully 
from  the  desk  at  which  she  had  been  writing.  With  per 
fect  composure  she  smiled  and  extended  her  slim  hand  to 
the  American  as  he  crossed  the  room  with  Medcroft's  jerky 
introduction  dinging  in  his  ears. 

"  My  old  friend  Brock,  dear.  He  has  consented  to  be 
your  husband.  You  've  never  met  your  wife,  have  you,  old 
man  ?  "  A  blush  spread  over  her  exquisite  face. 

"  Oh,  Roxbury,  how  embarrassing  !  He  has  n't  even 
proposed  to  me.  So  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Brock.  I  've 
been  trying  to  picture  what  you  would  look  like,  ever  since 
Roxbury  went  out  to  find  you.  Sit  here,  please,  near  me. 
Roxbury,  has  Mr.  Brock  really  fallen  into  your  terrible 
trap  ?  Is  n't  it  the  most  ridiculous  proceeding,  Mr. 
Brock  —  " 

"  Call  him  Roxbury,  my  dear.  He  's  fully  prepared  for 
it.  And  now  let 's  get  down  to  business.  He  insists  upon 
talking  k  over  with  you.  You  don't  mind  me  being  pres- 

[H] 


[H 


Husbands   and    Wife 

ent,  do  you,  Brock  ?  I  daresay  I  can  help  you  out  a  bit. 
I  've  been  married  four  years." 

For  an  hour  the  trio  discussed  the  situation  from  all  sides 
and  in  all  its  phases.  When  Brock  arose  to  take  his  de 
parture,  he  was  irrevocably  committed  to  the  enterprise ;  he 
was,  moreover,  completely  enchanted  by  the  vista  of  harm 
less  fun  and  sweet  adventure  that  stretched  before  him. 
He  went  away  with  his  head  full  of  the  brilliant,  quick 
witted,  loyal  young  American  who  was  entering  so  heartily 
into  the  plot  to  deceive  her  own  friends  for  the  time  being 
in  order  that  her  husband  might  profit  in  high  places. 

"She  is  ripping,"  he  said  to  Medcroft  in  the  hallway. 
All  of  the  plans  had  been  made  and  all  of  them  had  been 
approved  by  the  young  wife.  She  had  shown  wonderful 
perspicacity  and  foresight  in  the  matter  of  details ;  her 
capacity  for  selection  and  disposal  was  even  more  compre 
hensive  than  that  of  the  two  men,  both  of  whom  were 
somewhat  staggered  by  the  boldness  of  more  than  one  sug 
gestion  which  came  from  her  fruitful  storehouse  of  romantic 
ideas.  She  had  grasped  the  full  humour  of  the  situation, 
from  inception  to  denouement^  and,  to  all  appearance,  was 
heart  and  soul  deep  in  the  venture,  despising  the  risks  be 
cause  she  knew  that  succour  was  always  at  her  elbow  in  the 
shape  of  her  husband's  loyal  support.  There  was  no  con 
dition  involved  which  could  not  be  explained  to  her  credit; 
adequate  compensation  for  the  merry  sacrifice  was  to  be 
had  in  the  brief  detachment  from  rigid  English  convention 
ality,  in  the  hazardous  injection  of  quixotism  into  an  other 
wise  overly  healthful  life  of  platitudes.  Society  had  become 
the  sepulchre  of  youthful  inspirations ;  she  welcomed  the 
resurrection.  The  exquisite  delicacy  with  which  she  ana 
lysed  the  cost  and  computed  the  interest  won  for  her  the 

[15] 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

warmest  regard  of  her  husband's  friend,  fellow  conspira 
tor  in  a  plot  which  involved  the  subtlest  test  of  loyalty  and 
honour. 

"  Yes,"  said  Medcroft  simply.  "  You  won't  have  rea 
son  to  change  your  opinion,  Brock."  He  hesitated  for  a 
moment  and  then  burst  out,  rather  plaintively  :  "  She 's  an 
awfully  good  sort,  demme,  she  is.  And  so  are  you,  Brock, 
—  it 's  mighty  decent  of  you.  You  're  the  only  man  in  all 
the  world  that  I  could  or  would  have  asked  to  do  this  for 
me.  You  are  my  best  friend,  Brock,  —  you  always  have 
been."  He  seized  the  American's  hand  and  wrung  it  fer 
vently.  Their  eyes  met  in  a  long  look  of  understanding 
and  confidence. 

"  I  '11  take  good  care  of  her,"  said  Brock  quietly. 

"  I  know  you  will.  Good-by,  then.  I  '11  see  you  late 
this  afternoon.  You  leave  this  evening  at  seven-twenty 
by  the  Orient  Express.  I  've  had  the  reservations  booked 
and  —  and  —  "  He  hesitated,  a  wry  smile  on  his  lips,  "I 
daresay  you  won't  mind  making  a  pretence  of  looking  after 
the  luggage  a  bit,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  take  this  opportunity  to  put  myself  in  training 
against  the  day  when  I  may  be  travelling  away  with  a  happy 
bride  of  my  own.  By  the  way,  how  long  am  I  expected 
to  remain  in  this  state  of  matrimonial  bliss  ?  That 's  no 
small  detail,  you  know,  even  though  it  escaped  for  the 
moment." 

"  Three  weeks." 

"  Three  weeks  ?  "      He  almost  reeled. 

"That's  a  long  time  in  these  days  of  speedy  divorces," 
said  Medcroft  blandly. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    SISTER-IN-LAW 

THE  Gare  de  1'Est  was  thronged  with  people  when 
Brock  appeared,  fully  half  an  hour  before  departing 
time.  In  no  little  dismay,  he  found  himself  won 
dering  if  the  whole  of  Paris  was  going  away  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  if  the  rest  of  the  continent  was  arriving.  He 
felt  a  fool  in  Medcroft's  unspeakable  checked  suit ;  and 
the  eyeglass  was  a  much  more  obstinate,  untractable  thing 
than  he  had  even  suspected  it  could  be.  The  right  side 
of  his  face  was  in  a  condition  of  semi-paralysis  due  to  the 
muscular  exactions  required  ;  he  had  a  sickening  fear  that 
the  scowl  that  marked  his  brow  was  destined  to  form  a 
perpetual  alliance  with  the  smirk  at  the  corner  of  his  nose, 
forever  destroying  the  symmetry  of  his  face.  If  one  who 
has  not  the  proper  facial  construction  will  but  attempt  the 
feat  of  holding  a  monocle  in  place  for  unbroken  hours,  he 
may  come  to  appreciate  at  least  one  of  the  trials  which 
beset  poor  Brock. 

Every  one  seemed  to  be  staring  at  him.  He  heard  more 
than  one  American  in  the  scurrying  throng  say  to  another, 
"  English,"  and  he  felt  relieved  until  an  Englishman  or 
two  upset  his  confidence  by  brutally  alluding  to  him  as  a 
"  confounded  American  toady." 

It  was  quite  train  time  before  Mrs,  Medcroft  was  seen 

t'7] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

hurrying  in  from  the  carriage  way,  pursued  by  a  trio  of 
facteurs,  laden   with  bags  and  boxes. 

"  Don't  shake  hands,"  she  warned  in  a  quick  whisper,  as 
they  came  together.  "  I  recognised  you  by  the  clothes." 

"  Thank  God,  it  was  n't  my  face  !  "  he  cried;  "  Are 
your  trunks  checked  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  this  afternoon.  I  have  nothing  but  the  bags. 
You  have  the  tickets  ?  Then  let  us  get  aboard.  I  just 
could  n't  get  here  earlier,"  she  whispered  guiltily.  "  We 
had  to  say  good-by,  you  know.  Poor  old  Roxy  !  How  he 
hated  it !  I  sent  Burton  and  O'Brien  on  ahead  of  me. 
My  sister  brought  them  here  in  her  carriage,  and  I  dare 
say  they  're  aboard  and  abed  by  this  time.  You  did  n't 
see  them  ?  But  of  course  you  would  n't  know  my 
maids.  How  stupid  of  me !  Don't  be  alarmed.  They 
have  their  instructions,  Roxbury.  Does  n't  it  sound  odd 
to  you  ? " 

Brock  was  icy-cold  with  apprehension  as  they  walked 
down  the  line  of  wagon-lits  in  the  wake  of  the  bag-bearers. 
Mrs.  Medcroft  was  as  self-possessed  and  as  d'egag'e  as  he 
was  ill  at  ease  and  awkward.  As  they  ascended  the  steps 
of  the  carriage,  she  turned  back  to  him  and  said,  with  the 
most  malicious  twinkle  in  her  eyes, — 

u  I  'm  not  a  bit  nervous." 

"  But  you  've  been  married  so  much  longer  than  I  have," 
he  responded. 

Then  came  the  disposition  of  the  bags  and  parcels.  She 
calmly  directed  the  porters  to  put  the  overflow  into  the 
upper  berth.  The  garde  came  up  to  remonstrate  in  his 
most  rapid  French. 

"  But  where  is  M'sieur  to  sleep  if  the  bags  go  up 
there  ?  "  he  argued. 

[18] 


The    Sister-in-Law 

Mrs.  Medcroft  dropped  her  toilet  bag  and  turned  to 
Brock  with  startled  eyes,  her  lips  parted.  He  was  stand 
ing  in  the  passage,  his  two  bags  at  his  feet,  an  aroused 
gleam  in  his  eyes.  A  deep  flush  overspread  her  face  ;  an 
expression  of  utter  rout  succeeded  the  buoyancy  of  the 
moment  before. 

"  Really,"  she  murmured  and  could  go  no  farther.  The 
loveliest  pucker  came  into  her  face.  Brock  waved  the 
garde  aside. 

"  It 's  all  right,"  he  explained.  "  I  shan't  occupy  the  — 
I  mean,  I  '11  take  one  of  the  other  compartments."  As 
the  garde  opened  his  lips  to  protest,  she  drew  Brock  inside 
the  compartment  and  closed  the  door.  Mrs.  Medcroft 
was  agitated. 

"  Oh,  what  a  wretched  contretemps  !  "  she  cried  in  despair. 
"  Roxy  has  made  a  frightful  mess  of  it,  after  all.  He  has 
not  taken  a  compartment  for  you.  I  'm  —  I  'm  afraid  you  '11 
have  to  take  this  one  and  — and  let  me  go  in  with  —  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  he  broke  in.  "  Nothing  of  the  sort ! 
I  '11  find  a  bed,  never  fear.  I  daresay  there  's  plenty  of 
room  on  the  train.  You  shan't  sleep  with  the  servants. 
And  don't  lie  awake  blaming  poor  old  Rox.  He  's  lone 
some  and  unhappy,  and  he  —  " 

"  But  he  has  a  place  to  sleep,"  she  lamented.      "  I  'm 
so  sorry,  Mr.   Brock.      It's   perfectly  horrid,  and  I'm  — 
I  'm  dreadfully  afraid  you  won't    be  able  to  get  a  berth. 
Roxbury  tried  yesterday  for  a  lower  for  himself." 

u  And  he  —  could  n't  get  one  ?  " 

u  No,  Mr.  Brock.  But  I  '11  ask  the  maids  to  give  up 
their—" 

"Please,  please  don't  worry — and  please  don't  call  me 
Mr.  Brock.  I  hate  the  name.  Good  night !  Now  don't 

t'9] 


The   Husbands   of   Edith 

think  about  me.     I  '11  be  all  right.     You  '11  find  me  as  gay 
as  a  lark  in  the  morning." 

He  did  not  give  her  a  chance  for  further  protest,  but 
darted  out  of  the  compartment.  As  he  closed  the  door 
he  had  the  disquieting  impression  that  she  was  sitting  upon 
the  edge  of  her  berth,  giggling  hysterically. 

The  garde  listened  to  his  demand  for  a  separate  compart 
ment  with  the  dejection  of  a  capable  French  attendant  who 
is  ever  ready  with  joint  commiseration  and  obduracy.  No, 
he  was  compelled  to  inform  Monsieur  the  American  (to 
the  dismay  of  the  pseudo-Englishman)  it  would  be  im 
possible  to  arrange  for  another  compartment.  The  train 
was  crowded  to  its  capacity.  Many  had  been  turned 
away.  No,  a  louis  would  not  be  of  avail.  The  deepest 
grief  and  anguish  filled  his  soul  to  see  the  predicament  of 
Monsieur,  but  there  was  no  relief. 

Brock's  miserable  affectation  of  the  English  drawl  soon 
gave  way  to  sharp,  emphatic  Americanisms.  It  was  after 
eight  o'clock  and  the  train  was  well  under  way.  The 
street  lamps  were  getting  fewer  and  fewer,  and  the  soft, 
fresh  air  of  the  suburbs  was  rushing  through  the  window. 

"  But,  hang  it  all,  I  can't  sit  up  all  night ! "  growled 
Brock  in  exasperated  finality. 

"  Monsieur  forgets  that  he  has  a  berth.  It  is  not  the 
fault  of  the  compagnie  that  he  is  without  a  bed.  Did  not 
M'sieur  book  the  compartment  himself  ?  Tres  bien  !  " 

As  the  result  of  strong  persuasion,  the  garde  consented 
to  make  "the  grand  tour"  of  the  train  de  luxe  in  search  of 
a  berth.  It  goes  without  saying  that  he  was  intensely 
mystified  by  Brock's  incautious  remark  that  he  would  be 
satisfied  with  "  an  upper  if  he  could  n't  do  any  better." 
For  the  life  of  him,  Monsieur  the  garde  could  not  compre- 

[20] 


The    Sister-in-Law 

hend  the  situation.  He  went  away,  shaking  his  head  and 
looking  at  the  tickets,  as  much  as  to  say  that  an  American 
is  never  satisfied  —  not  even  with  the  best. 

Brock  lowered  a  window-seat  in  the  passage  and  sat 
down,  staring  blankly  and  blackly  out  into  the  whizzing 
night.  The  predicament  had  come  upon  him  so  suddenly 
that  he  had  not  until  now  found  the  opportunity  to  analyse 
it  in  its  entirety.  The  worst  that  could  come  of  it,  of 
course,  was  the  poor  comfort  of  a  night  in  a  chair.  He 
knew  that  it  was  a  train  of  sleeping-coaches  —  Ah  !  He 
suddenly  remembered  the  luggage  van !  'As  a  last  resort, 
he  might  find  lodging  among  the  trunks ! 

And  then,  too,  there  was  something  irritating  in  the 
suspicion  that  she  had  laughed  as  if  it  were  a  huge  joke  — 
perhaps,  even  now,  she  was  doubled  up  in  her  narrow 
couch,  stifling  the  giggle  that  would  not  be  suppressed. 

When  the  garde  came  back  with  the  lugubrious  infor 
mation  that  nothing,  positively  nothing,  was  to  be  had,  it  is 
painful  to  record  that  Brock  swore  in  a  manner  which  won 
the  deepest  respect  of  the  trainman. 

"  At  four  o'  clock  in  the  morning,  M'sieur,  an  old 
gentleman  and  his  wife  will  get  out  at  Strassburg,  their 
destination.  They  are  in  this  carriage  and  you  may  take 
their  compartment,  if  M'sieur  will  not  object  to  sleeping 
in  a  room  just  vacated  by  two  mourners  who  to-day  buried 
a  beloved  son  in  Paris.  They  have  kept  all  of  the  flowers 
in  their —  " 

44  Four  o'clock !  Good  Lord,  what  am  I  to  do  till 
then  ?  "  groaned  Brock,  glaring  with  unmanly  hatred  at  the 
door  of  the  Medcroft  compartment. 

44  Perhaps  Madame  may  be  willing  to  take  the  upper  —  " 
ventured  the  guard  timorously,  but  Brock  checked  him 

[21] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

with  a  peremptory  gesture.  He  proposed,  instead,  the 
luggage  van,  whereupon  the  guard  burst  into  a  psalm  of 
utter  dejection.  It  was  against  the  rules,  irrevocably. 

"  Then  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  sit  here  all  night,"  said 
Brock  faintly.  He  was  forgetting  his  English. 

"  If  M'sieur  will  not  occupy  his  own  bed,  yes,"  said  the 
guard,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  washing  his  hands  of 
the  whole  incomprehensible  affair.  "  M'sieur  will  then  be 
up  to  receive  the  Customs  officers  at  the  frontier.  Perhaps 
he  will  give  me  the  keys  to  Madame's  trunks,  so  that  she 
may  not  be  disturbed." 

"  Ask  her  for  'em  yourself,"  growled  Brock,  after  one 
dazed  moment  of  dismay. 

The  hours  crawled  slowly  by.  He  paced  the  length  of 
the  wriggling  corridor  a  hundred  times,  back  and  forth ;  he 
sat  on  every  window-seat  in  the  carriage ;  he  nodded  and 
dozed  and  groaned,  and  laughed  at  himself  in  the  deepest 
derision  all  through  the  dismal  night.  Daylight  came  at 
four ;  he  saw  the  sun  rise  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  He 
neither  enjoyed  nor  appreciated  the  novelty.  Never  had  he 
witnessed  anything  so  mournfully  depressing  as  the  first 
grey  tints  that  crept  up  to  mock  him  in  his  vigil ;  never 
had  he  seen  anything  so  ghastly  as  the  soft  red  glow  that 
suffused  the  morning  sky. 

"  I  '11  sleep  all  day  if  I  ever  get  into  that  damned  bed," 
he  said  to  himself,  bitterly  wistful. 

The  Customs  officers  had  eyed  him  suspiciously  at  the 
border.  They  evidently  had  been  told  of  his  strange  mad 
ness  in  refusing  to  occupy  the  berth  he  had  paid  for.  Their 
examination  of  his  effects  was  more  thorough  than  usual. 
It  may  have  entered  their  heads  that  he  was  standing  guard 
over  the  repose  of  a  fair  accomplice.  They  asked  so  many 

[22] 


The    Si ster -in- Law 

embarrassing  and  disconcerting  questions  that  he  was  de 
voutly  relieved  when  they  passed  on,  still  suspicious. 

The  train  was  late,  and  at  five  o'clock  he  was  desperately 
combating  an  impulse  to  leave  it  at  Strassburg,  find  lodging 
in  a  hotel,  and  then,  refreshed,  set  out  for  London  to  have 
it  out  with  the  malevolent  Medcroft.  The  disembarking 
of  the  venerable  mourners,  however,  restored  him  to  a 
degree  of  his  peace  of  mind.  After  all,  he  reviewed,  it 
would  be  cowardly  and  base  to  desert  a  trusting  wife ;  he 
pictured  her  as  asleep  and  securely  confident  in  his  stanch- 
ness.  No  :  he  would  have  it  out  with  Medcroft  at  some 
later  day. 

He  was  congratulating  himself  on  the  acquisition  of  a 
bed  —  although  it  might  possess  the  odour  of  a  bed  of  tube 
roses  —  when  all  of  his  pleasant  calculations  were  upset  by 
the  appearance  of  a  German  burgher  and  his  family.  It 
was  then  that  he  learned  that  these  people  had  booked  le 
compartement  from  Strassburg  to  Munich. 

Brock,  resumed  his  window-seat  and  despondently 
awaited  the  call  to  breakfast.  He  fell  sound  asleep  with 
his  monocle  in  position ;  nor  did  it  matter  to  him  that  his 
hat  dropped  through  the  window  and  went  scuttling  off 
across  the  green  Rhenish  fields.  When  next  he  looked  at 
his  watch,  it  was  eight  o'clock.  A  small  boy  was  stand 
ing  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  staring  wide-eyed  at  him. 
Two  little  girls  came  piling,  half  dressed,  from  a  com 
partment,  evidently  in  response  to  the  youngster's  whis 
pered  command  to  hurry  out  and  see  the  funny  man. 
Brock  scowled  darkly,  and  the  trio  darted  swiftly  into 
the  compartment. 

He  dragged  his  stiff  legs  into  the  dining-car  at  Stuttgart 
and  shoved  them  under  a  table.  The  car  was  quite  empty. 


'H 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

As  he  was  staring  blankly  at  the  menu,  the  conducteur  from 
his  car  hurried  in  with  the  word  that  Madame  would  not 
breakfast  until  nine.  She  was  still  very  sleepy.  Would 
Monsieur  Medcroft  be  good  enough  to  order  her  coffee  and 
rolls  brought  to  her  compartment  at  that  hour  ?  And  would 
he  mind  seeing  that  the  maid  saw  to  it  that  Raggles  surely 
had  his  biscuit  and  a  walk  at  the  next  station  ? 

"  Raggles  ?  "  queried  Brock,  passing  his  hand  over  his 
brow.  The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked 
askance.  "  Oh,  yes,  —  I  —  understand,"  murmured  the 
puzzled  one,  recovering  himself.  For  the  next  ten  minutes 
he  wondered  who  Raggles  could  be. 

He  had  eaten  his  strawberries  and  was  waiting  for  the 
eggs  and  coffee,  resentfully  eying  the  early  risers  who  were 
now  coming  in  for  their  coffee  and  rolls.  They  had  slept 
—  he  could  tell  by  the  complacent  manner  in  which  their 
hair  was  combed  and  by  the  interest  they  found  in  the 
scenery  which  he  had  come,  by  tedious  familiarity,  to  loathe 
and  scorn. 

The  actions  of  two  voung  women  near  the  door  attracted 
his  attention.  From  their  actions  he  suddenly  gathered 
that  they  were  discussing  him,  —  and  in  a  more  or  less 
facetious  fashion,  at  that.  They  whispered  and  looked  shy 
and  grinned  in  a  most  disconcerting  manner.  He  turned 
red  about  the  ears  and  began  to  wonder,  fiercely,  why  his 
eggs  and  coffee  were  so  slow  in  coming.  Then,  to  his 
consternation,  the  young  women,  plainly  of  the  serving- 
class,  bore  down  upon  him  with  abashed  smiles.  He 
noticed  for  the  first  time  that  one  of  them  was  carrying  a 
very  small  child  in  her  arms;  as  she  came  alongside,  grin 
ning  sheepishly,  she  extended  the  small  one  toward  the 
astounded  Brock,  and  said  in  excellent  old  English: 


Brock 


The    Sister-in-Law 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Medcroft."  Then,  with  a  rare 
inspiration,  "Baby,  kiss  papa  —  come,  now." 

She  pushed  the  infant  almost  into  Brock's  face.  He  did 
not  observe  that  it  was  a  beautiful  child  and  that  it  had  a 
look  of  terror  in  its  eyes  ;  he  only  knew  that  he  was  glaring 
wildly  at  the  fiendish  nurse,  the  truth  slowly  beating  its 
way  into  his  be-addled  brain.  For  a  full  minute  he  stared 
as  if  petrified.  Then,  administering  a  sickly  grin,  he 
sought  to  bring  his  wits  up  to  the  requirements  of  the  ex 
traordinary  situation.  He  lifted  his  hand  and  mumbled  : 
"  Come,  Raggles  !  I  have  n't  a  biscuit,  but  here,  have  a 
roll,  do.  Give  me  a  —  a  kiss  !  "  He  added  the  last  in 
most  heroic  surrender. 

The  nurse  and  the  maid  stared  hard  at  him  ;  the  baby 
turned  in  affright  to  cling  closely  to  the  neck  of  the  former. 

"  Good  Lord,  sir,"  whispered  the  nurse,  with  a  ner 
vous  glance  about  her ;  "  this  ain't  Raggles,  sir.  This  is 
a  baby." 

"  Do  you  think  I  'm  blind,  madam  ?  "  whispered  he, 
savagely.  "  1  can  see  it 's  a  baby,  but  I  did  n't  know  there 
was  to  be  one.  Its  father  did  n't  mention  it  to  me." 

"  It 's  a  wise  father  that  knows  his  own  child,"  said  the 
nurse,  with  prompt  sarcasm. 

<c  I  think  they  should  have  prepared  me  for  this," 
growled  he.  "Is  it  supposed  to  be  mine?  Does — does 
Mrs.  Medcroft  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  You  mean,  about  the  baby,  sir  ?  Of  course  she  does. 
It 's  hers.  Please  don't  look  so  odd,  sir.  My  word,  sir, 
I  did  n't  know  you  did  n't  know  it,  sir.  I  was  n't  told, 
was  I,  O'Brien  ?  There,  sir,  you  see  !  Mrs.  Medcroft 
said  as  I  was  to  bring  Tootles  in  to  you,  sir.  She  said  —  " 

"  Tootles  ?  "  murmured  Brock.     "  Tootles  and  Raggles. 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

I  daresay  there 's  a  distinction  without  much  of  a  difference. 
Are  you  Burton  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Medcroft.  The  nurse.  Won't  you  take 
baby  for  a  minute,  sir?  Just  to  get  acquainted,  and  for 
appearance's  sake."  She  whispered  the  well-meant  en 
treaty.  Brock,  now  well  into  the  spirit  of  the  situation, 
obligingly  extended  his  arms.  The  baby  set  up  a  lusty 
howl  of  aversion. 

"  For  God's  sake,  take  him  back  to  his  mother !  " 
groaned  Brock  hastily.  "  He  does  n't  like  strangers  ! 
Take  him  away  !  " 

"  It  is  n't  a  he,  sir,"  whispered  the  maid,  as  the  nurse 
prepared  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  with  the  Medcroft  offspring. 
"  It 's  a  her,  sir." 

Brock's  face  was  a  study  in  perplexity  as  they  hurried 
from  the  car. 

"  By  George,"  he  muttered,  u  what  next  !  " 

That  which  did  come  next  was  even  more  amazing  than 
the  unexpected  advent  of  Tootles.  He  barely  had  recov 
ered  his  equanimity  —  with  his  coffee  —  when  a  young  lady 
entered  the  car.  That,  of  itself,  was  not  much  to  speak  of, 
but  what  followed  was  something  that  not  even  he  could 
have  dreamed  of  if  he  had  been  given  the  chance.  He 
afterward  recalled,  in  some  distress  of  mind,  that  his  sec 
ond  quick  glance  at  the  new-comer  developed  into  little  less 
than  a  rude  stare  of  admiration.  Small  wonder,  let  it  be 
advanced  in  his  defence. 

She  was  astoundingly  fair  to  look  upon  —  dazzling, 
it  might  be  said,  with  some  support  to  the  adjective. 
Moreover,  she  was  looking  directly  into  his  eyes  from 
her  unstable  position  near  the  door;  what  was  more,  a  shy, 
even  mischievous,  smile  crept  into  her  face  as  her  glance 

[26] 


The    Sisier-in-La-w 

caught  his.  Never  had  he  seen  a  more  exquisite  face  than 
hers ;  never  had  he  looked  upon  a  more  perfect  picture  of 
grace  and  loveliness  and  —  aye,  smartness.  She  was  smil 
ing  with  unmistakable  friendliness  and  recognition,  and 
yet  he  could  have  sworn  he  had  not  seen  her  before  in  his 
life.  As  if  he  could  have  forgotten  such  a  face  !  A  sud 
den  sense  of  enchantment  swept  over  him,  indescribable, 
yet  delicious. 

She  was  coming  toward  him  —  still  smiling  shyly,  her 
lips  parted  as  if  she  were  breathing  quickly  from  fear  or 
another  emotion.  He  set  down  his  coffee-cup  without 
regard  to  taste  or  direction,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  trim, 
slender  figure  in  blue.  He  now  saw  that  her  dark  eyes 
were  filled  with  a  soft  seriousness  that  belied  her  brave 
smile;  a  delicate  pink  had  come  into  her  clear,  high-bred 
face ;  the  hesitancy  of  the  gentlewoman  enveloped  her 
with  a  mantle  that  shielded  her  from  any  suspicion  of 
boldness.  Brock  struggled  to  his  feet,  amazement  written 
in  his  face. 

"  Good  morning,  Roxbury,"  she  said,  in  the  most  imper 
sonal  of  greetings.  Her  smile  deepened  as  the  blankness 
increased  in  his  face.  In  the  most  casual,  matter-of-fact 
manner,  she  appropriated  the  chair  across  the  table  from 
his.  "  Please  sit  down,  Roxy." 

He  sat  down  abruptly.  For  a  single,  tense,  abashed 
moment  they  looked  searchingly  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  Are  you  Raggles  ?  "  he  asked  politely. 

"  You  poor  man  !  "  she  cried,  aghast.  "  Raggles  is 
Edith's  French  poodle.  Has  no  one  told  you  of  the 
poodle  ?  "  She  half  whispered  this.  He  began  to  adore 
her  at  that  very  moment,  —  a  circumstance  well  worth 
remembering. 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

"  No  one  has  told  me  of  you,  for  that  matter,"  he  apol 
ogised,  thrilling  with  a  delight  such  as  he  had  never  known 
before.  "  Would  you  mind  whispering  to  me  just  who 
you  are  ?  Am  I  supposed  to  be  your  father  —  or  what  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  so  delightfully  casual,  is  n't  it  ?  "  she  said.  "  I 
daresay  they  forgot  to  tell  you  that  you  are  a  man  of  family. 
Did  n't  they  mention  me  in  any  way  at  all  ?  "  She  pouted 
very  prettily. 

"  No,  they  ignored  you  and  Raggles  and  Tootles.  Are 
there  any  more  in  my  family  that  I  have  n't  met  ?  " 

"  You  see,  we  got  to  the  station  quite  a  bit  ahead  of 
Edith.  That 's  how  you  happened  to  miss  meeting  us. 
We  saw  you  there,  however.  I  recognised  you  by  your 
clothes.  You  seemed  very  unhappy.  Oh,  I  forgot.  You 
wanted  to  know  who  I  am.  Well,  I  am  your  sister-in- 
law."  She  ordered  coffee  and  toast  while  he  sat  there 
figuring  it  out.  When  the  waiter  departed,  he  leaned  for 
ward  and  said  quite  frankly, — 

"  You  '11  pardon  me,  I  'm  sure,  but  I  can't  understand 
how  I  was  so  short-sighted  as  to  marry  your  sister." 

"  Well,  you  see,  you  did  n't  catch  a  glimpse  of  me  until 
after  you  were  married,"  she  railed.  "  I  was  in  the  Sacred 
Heart  convent,  you  remember." 

"  Ah,  that  explains  the  oversight.  I  am  considered  an 
unusually  discriminating  person.  Let  me  see :  I  married 
a  Miss  Fowler,  did  n't  I  ?  " 

"Yes,  Roxbury.  Four  years  ago,  in  London,  at  St. 
George's,  in  Hanover  Square,  at  four  o'clock,  on  a  Satur 
day.  Did  n't  they  tell  you  all  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  said  anything  about  it  being  four 
o'clock.  I  'm  glad  to  know  the  awful  details,  believe  me. 
Thanks !  Do  you  know  I  decided  you  were  an  American 

[28] 


^ 

*. 


The    Sister-in-Law 

the  instant  I  saw  you  in  the  door,"  he  went  on,  quite 
irrelevantly. 

"  How  clever  of  you,  Roxbury  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Fowler,  I  'm  not  such  an  ass  as  I  look, 
really  I  'm  not.  I  'm  trying  to  look  like  —  " 

"  'Sh  !  If  you  want  me  to  believe  you  are  not  the  ass  you 
think  you  look,  be  careful  what  you  say.  Remember  I  am 
not  Miss  Fowler  to  you.  I  am  Constance  —  sometimes 
Connie.  Can  you  remember  that, —  Roxbury?" 

He  drew  a  long  breath.  "  Oh,  I  say,  Connie,  I  'd  much 
rather  be  plain  Brock  to  you." 

"  Please  don't  forget  that  I  am  doing  this  for  my  sister, — 
not  for  myself,  by  any  manner  of  means,"  she  said  stiffly. 
He  flushed  painfully,  conscious  of  the  rebuke. 

"  Please  overlook  my  faults  for  the  time  being,"  he 
said.  "  I  '11  do  better.  You  see,  I  've  been  rather  over 
come  by  the  sense  of  my  own  importance.  I  'm  not  used 
to  being  the  head  of  an  establishment.  It  has  dazed  me. 
A  great  many  things  have  happened  to  me  since  I  left  the 
Gare  de  1'Est  last  night."  He  was  considerate  in  not 
referring  to  his  unhappy  mode  of  travelling.  "  For  in 
stance,  I  've  completely  lost  my  head."  He  might  have 
said  hat,  but  that  would  have  sounded  commonplace  and 
earthy. 

"  One  does,  you  know,  when  he  loses  his  identity,"  she 
said  sympathetically.  "  Edith  says  you  are  ripping,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,"  she  went  on  hurriedly,  in  perfect 
mimicry.  "  You  come  very  highly  recommended  as  a 
brother-in-law." 

"  Are  you  to  be  with  us  until  the  end  of  the  play  ?  " 

"Yes.  The  Rodneys  are  my  friends,  not  Edith's. 
{Catherine  Rodney  was  in  the  convent  with  me.  We  sec 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

a  great  deal  of  each  other.  I  'm  sure  you  will  like  her. 
Everybody  falls  dreadfully  in  love  with  her." 

"  How  very  amiable  of  you  to  permit  it,"  he  protested 
gallantly.  "  I  'm  sure  I  shall  enjoy  falling  in  love.  Which 
reminds  me  that  I  've  never  had  a  sister-in-law.  They  're 
very  nice,  I  'm  told.  It 's  odd  that  Medcroft  did  n't  tell 
me  about  you.  Would  you  mind  advancing  a  bit  of  general 
information  about  yourself —  and,  I  may  say,  about  my 
family  in  general  ?  It  may  come  handy." 

"  I  feel  as  though  I  had  known  you  for  years,"  she  said, 
frankly  returning  his  gaze.  She  leaned  forward,  her  elbows 
on  the  table,  her  chin  in  her  hands.  "  I  'm  merely  Edith's 
sister.  We  live  in  Paris,  —  that  is,  father  and  I.  I  'm 
three  years  younger  than  Edith.  Of  course,  you  know 
how  old  your  wife  is,  so  we  won't  dwell  upon  that.  You 
don't  ?  Then  I  'd  demand  it  of  her.  I  have  n't  been 
in  Philadelphia  since  I  was  seven  —  and  that 's  ages  ago. 
I  have  no  mother,  and  father  is  off  in  South  America  on 
business.  So,  you  see,  little  sister  has  to  tag  after  big  sister. 
Oh  !  "  She  interrupted  the  recital  with  an  abrupt  change 
of  manner.  "  I  'm  so  sorry  you  Ve  finished  your  coffee. 
Now  you  '11  have  to  go.  Roxbury  always  does." 

"  But  I  have  n't  finished,"  he  exclaimed  eagerly.  "  I  'm 
'going  to  have  three  or  four  more  pots.  You  have  no  idea 
how  —  " 

"  It 's  all  right  then,"  she  said  with  her  rarest  and  most 
confident  smile.  "  Well,  Edith  asked  me  to  come  to 
London  for  the  season.  The  Rodneys  were  in  Paris  at 
the  time,  however,  and  they  had  asked  me  to  join  them  for 
a  fortnight  in  the  Tyrol.  When  I  said  that  I  was  off  for 
a  visit  with  the  —  with  you,  I  mean  —  they  insisted  that 
you  all  should  come  too.  They  are  connections,  in  a 

[30]  ' 


<H 


The    Sister-in-Law 

way,  don't  you  see.  So  we  accepted.  And  here  we 
are." 

"  You  don't,  by  any  chance,  happen  to  be  engaged  to  be 
married,  or  anything  of  that  sort,"  he  ventured.  "  Don't 
crush  me  !  It 's  only  as  a  safeguard,  you  know.  People 
may  ask  questions." 

"You  are  not  obliged  to  answer  them,  Roxbury,"  she 
said.  The  flush  had  deepened  in  her  cheek.  It  convinced 
him  that  she  was  in  love  —  and  engaged.  He  experienced 
a  queer  sinking  of  the  heart.  "  You  can  say  that  you  don't 
know,  if  anyone  should  be  so  rude  as  to  ask."  Suddenly 
she  caught  her  breath  and  stared  at  him  in  a  sort  of  panic. 
"  Heavens,"  she  whispered,  the  toast  poised  half-way  to 
her  lips,  "you  're  not,  by  any  chance,  engaged,  are  you  ? 
Appalling  thought !  " 

He  laughed  delightedly.  "  People  won't  ask  about  me, 
my  dear  Constance.  I  'm  already  married,  you  know. 
But  if  anyone  should  ask,  you  're  not  obliged  to  answer." 

She  looked  troubled  and  uncertain.  "  You  may  be 
really  married,  after  all,"  she  speculated.  "  Who  knows  ? 
Poor  old  Roxbury  would  n't  have  had  the  tact  to  inquire." 

"  I  am  a  henpecked  bachelor,  believe  me." 

For  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour  they  chatted  in  the 
liveliest,  most  inconsequential  fashion,  getting  on  excellent 
terms  with  each  other  and  arriving  at  a  fair  sense  of  appre- 
ciatipn  of  what  lay  ahead  of  them  in  the  shape  of  peril  and 
adventure. 

She  was  the  most  delightful  person  he  had  ever  met,  as 
well  as  being  the  most  beautiful.  There  was  a  sprightly, 
ever-growing  air  of  self-reliance  about  her  that  charmed 
and  reassured  him.  She  possessed  the  capacity  for  divining 
the  sane  and  the  ridiculous  with  splendid  discrimination. 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

Moreover,  she  could  jest  and  be  serious  with  an  impartial 
intelligence  that  gratified  his  vanity  without  in  the  least 
inspiring  the  suspicion  that  she  was  merely  clever.  He 
became  blissfully  imbued  with  the  idea  that  she  had  surprised 
herself  by  the  discovery  that  he  was  really  quite  attractive. 
In  fact,  he  was  quite  sincerely  pleased  with  himself —  for 
which  he  may  be  pardoned  if  one  stops  to  think  how  re 
sourceful  a  woman  of  tact  may  be  if  she  is  very,  very 
pretty. 

And,  by  way  of  further  analogy,  Brock  was  a  thoroughly 
likable  chap,  beside  being  handsome  and  a  thoroughbred 
to  the  core.  It's  not  betraying  a  secret  to  affirm,  cold 
bloodedly,  that  Miss  Fowler  had  not  allied  herself  with  the 
enterprise  until  after  she  had  pinned  Roxbury  down  to  facts 
concerning  Brock's  antecedents.  She  was  properly  relieved 
to  find  that  he  came  of  a  fine  old  family  and  that  he  had 
led  more  than  one  cotillion  in  New  York. 

He  experienced  a  remarkable  change  of  front  in  respect 
to  Roxbury  Medcroft  before  the  breakfast  was  over.  It 
may  have  been  due  to  the  spell  of  her  eyes  or  to  the  call 
of  her  voice,  but  it  remains  an  unchallenged  fact  that  he 
no  longer  thought  of  Medcroft  as  a  stupid  bungler;  instead, 
he  had  come  to  regard  him  as  a  good  and  irreproachable 
Samaritan.  All  of  which  goes  to  prove  that  a  divinity 
shapes  our  ends,  rough  hew  them  how  we  may. 

"  I  'm  sure  we  shall  get  on  famously,"  he  said,  as 
she  signified  her  desire  to-  return  to  the  compartment. 
"  I  've  always  longed  for  a  nice,  agreeable  sister-in-law." 

"  Her  mission  in  life,  up  to  a  certain  stage,  is  to  make 
the  man  appreciate  the  fact  that  he  has,  after  all,  been 
snapped  up  by  a  small  but  deserving  family,"  she  said 
blithely.  "  It  is  also  her  duty  to  pour  oil  on  troubled 

[3*] 


The    Sister-in-Law 

waters  and  strew  flowers  along  the  connubial  highway,  so 
long  as  her  kind  offices  are  not  resented.  By  the  way, 
Roxbury,  I  am  now  about  to  preserve  you  from  bitter 
reproaches.  You  have  forgotten  to  order  coffee  and  rolls 
for  your  wife." 

"  Great  Scott !  So  I  have  !  It 's  nine  o'  clock."  He 
ordered  the  coffee  and  rolls  to  be  sent  in  at  once.  "  I 
hope  she  has  n't  starved  to  death." 

"  My  dear  Roxbury,"  she  said  sternly,  u  I  must  take 
you  under  my  wing.  You  have  much  to  accomplish  in 
the  next  twenty-four  hours,  not  the  least  of  your  duties 
being  the  subjugation  of  Tootles  and  Raggles.  Tootles  is 
fifteen  months  old,  it  may  interest  you  to  know.  We 
can't  afford  to  have  Tootles  scream  with  terror  every  time 
she  sees  you,  and  it  would  be  most  unfortunate  if  Raggles 
should  growl  and  snap  at  you  as  he  does  at  all  suspicious 
strangers.  Once  in  a  wl:ile  he  bites  too.  Do  you  like 
babies  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  —  I  think  I  do,"  he  said  doubtingly.  "  I 
daresay  I  could  cultivate  a  taste  for  'em.  But,  I  say," 
with  eager  enthusiasm,  "  I  love  dogs  !  " 

"  It  may  be  distinctly  in  your  favour  that  Raggles  loathes 
the  real  Roxbury.  He  growls  every  time  that  Roxy  kisses 
Edith." 

"  Has  he  ever  bitten  Roxy  for  it  ?  " 

"No,"  dubiously,  "but  Roxy  has  had  to  kick  him  on 
several  occasions." 

"How  very  tiresome,  —  to  kick  and  kiss  at  the  same 
time." 

"  Raggles  is  very  jealous,  you  understand." 

"  That 's  more  than  I  can  say  for  dear  old  Roxy.  But 
I  '11  try  to  anticipate  Raggles  by  compelling  Edith  to  keep 

3  [33] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

her  distance,"  he  said,  scowling  darkly.  "  Has  it  not 
occurred  to  you  that  Tootles  will  be  pretty  —  er — much 
of  a  nuisance  when  it  comes  to  mountain  climbing?"  He 
felt  his  way  carefully  in  saying  this. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  Roxbury,  would  you  have  left  the  poor 
little  darling  at  home —  in  all  that  dreadful  heat  ?  " 

"  I  'm  sure  I  could  n't  have  been  blamed  for  leaving  her 
at  home,"  he  protested.  "  She  did  n't  exist  until  half  an 
hour  ago.  Heavens  !  how  they  do  spring  up  !  " 

The  remainder  of  Brock's  day  was  spent  in  getting 
acquainted  with  his  family  —  or,  rather,  his  manage. 
There  were  habits  and  foibles,  demands  and  restrictions, 
that  he  had  to  adapt  himself  to  with  unvarying  benignity. 
He  made  a  friend  of  Raggles  without  half  trying  ;  dogs 
always  took  to  him,  he  admitted  modestly.  Tootles  was 
less  vulnerable.  She  howled  consistently  at  each  of  his 
first  half-dozen  advances ;  his  courage  began  to  wane  with 
shocking  rapidity;  his  next  half-hearted  advances  were  in 
reality  inglorious  retreats.  Spurred  on  by  the  sustaining 
Constance,  he  stood  by  his  guns  and  at  last  was  gratified 
to  see  faint  signs  of  surrender.  By  midday  he  had 
conquered.  Tootles  permitted  him  to  carry  her  up  and 
down  the  station  platform  (she  was  too  young  to  realise 
the  risk  she  ran).  Edith  and  Constance,  with  the  beaming 
nurse  and  O'Brien,  applauded  warmly  when  he  returned 
from  his  first  promenade,  bearing  Tootles  and  proudly 
heeled  by  Raggles.  Fond  mothers  in  the  crowd  of  hurry 
ing  travellers  found  time  to  look  upon  him  and  smile  as  if 
to  say,  "  What  a  nice  man  !  "  He  could  almost  hear  them 
saying  it.  Which,  no  doubt,  accounted  for  the  intense  rud 
diness  of  his  cheeks. 

"  Do  you  ever  spank  her  ? "  he  demanded  once  of 
[34] 


The    Sister-in-Laia 

Mrs.  Medcroft,  after  Tootles  had  brought  tears  to  his  eyes 
with  a  potent  attack  upon  his  nose.  She  caught  the  light 
of  danger  in  his  grey  eyes  and  hastily  snatched  the  offend 
ing  Tootles  from  his  arms. 

Miss  Fowler  kept  him  constantly  at  work  with  his 
eyeglass  and  his  English,  neither  of  which  he  was  manag 
ing  well  enough  to  please  her  critical  estimate.  In  fact,  he 
laboured  all  day  with  the  persistence,  if  not  the  sullenness, 
of  a  hard-driven  slave.  He  did  not  have  time  to  become 
tired.  There  was  always  something  new  to  be  done  or 
learned  or  unlearned :  his  day  was  full  to  overflowing.  He 
was  a  man  of  family  ! 

The  wife  of  his  bosom  was  tranquillity  itself.  She  was 
enjoying  herself.  When  not  amusing  herself  by  watch 
ing  Brock's  misfortunes,  she  was  napping  or  reading  or 
sending  out  for  cool  drinks.  With  all  the  selfishness  of 
a  dutiful  wife,  she  was  content  to  shift  responsibilities 
upon  that  ever  convenient  and  useful  creature  —  a  detached 
sister. 

Brock  sent  telegrams  for  her  from  cities  along  the  way, 
—  Ulm,  Munich,  Salzburg,  and  others,  —  all  meant  for  the 
real  Roxbury  in  London,  but  sent  to  a  fictitious  being  in 
Great  Russell  Street,  the  same  having  been  agreed  upon  by 
at  least  two  of  the  conspirators.  It  mattered  little  that  she 
repeated  herself  monotonously  in  regard  to  the  state  of 
health  of  herself  and  Tootles.  Roxbury  would  doubt 
less  enjoy  the  protracted  happiness  brought  on  by  these 
despatches,  even  though  they  got  him  out  of  bed  or  missed 
him  altogether  until  they  reached  him  in  a  bunch  the 
next  day.  He  may  also  have  been  gratified  to  hear 
from  Munich  that  Roxbury  was  perfectly  lovely.  She 
said,  in  the  course  of  her  longest  despatch,  that  she  was  so 

[35] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

glad  that  the  baby  was  getting  to  like  her  father  more  and 
more  as  the  day  wore  on. 

At  one  station  Brock  narrowly  escaped  missing  the  train. 
He  swung  himself  aboard  as  the  cars  were  rolling  out  of 
the  sheds.  As  he  sank,  hot  and  exhausted,  into  the  seat 
opposite  his  wife  and  her  sister,  the  former  looked  up  from 
her  book,  yawning  ever  so  faintly,  and  asked  : 

"  Are  you  enjoying  your  honeymoon,  Roxbury  ? " 

"  Immensely !  "  he  exclaimed,  but  not  until  he  had 
searched  for  and  caught  Connie's  truant  gaze.  "Aren't 
we  ?  "  he  asked  of  Miss  Fowler,  his  eyes  dancing.  She 
smiled  encouragingly. 

"  I  think  you  are  such  a  nice  man  to  have  about," 
commented  Mrs.  Medcroft,  this  time  yawning  freely  and 
stretching  her  fine  young  arms  in  the  luxury  of  home 
contentment. 

Brock  went  to  bed  early,  in  Vienna  that  night  —  tired 
but  happy,  caring  not  what  the  morrow  brought  forth  so 
long  as  it  continued  to  provide  him  with  a  sister-in-law  and 
a  wife  who  was  devoted  —  to  another  man. 


[36] 


CHAPTER   III 

THE    DISTANT    COUSINS 

THE  end  of  the  week  found  Brock  quite  thoroughly 
domesticated  —  to  use  an  expression  supplied  by  his 
new  sister-in-law.  True,  he  had  gone  through 
some  trying  ordeals  and  had  lost  not  a  little  of  his  sense  of 
locality,  but  he  was  rapidly  recovering  it  as  the  pathway 
became  easier  and  less  obscure.  At  first  he  was  irritat- 
ingly  remiss  in  answering  to  the  name  of  Medcroft ;  but, 
to  justify  the  stupidity,  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  he 
had  fallen  into  a  condition  which  scarcely  permitted  him  to 
know  his  own  name,  much  less  that  of  another.  He  was 
under  the  spell !  Wherefore  it  did  not  matter  at  all  what 
name  he  went  by  :  he  would  have  answered  as  readily  to 
one  as  the  other. 

He  blandly  ignored  telegrams  and  letters  addressed  to 
Roxbury  Medcroft,  and  once  he  sat  like  a  lump,  with 
everyone  staring  at  him,  when  the  chairman  of  the  archi 
tects'  convention  asked  if  Mr.  Medcroft  had  anything  to 
say  on  the  subject  under  discussion.  He  was  forced,  in 
some  confusion,  to  attribute  his  heedlessness  to  a  life-long 
defect  in  hearing.  Thereafter  it  was  his  punishment  to 
have  his  name  and  fragments  of  conversation  hurled  about  in 
tones  so  stentorian  that  he  blushed  for  very  shame.  In  the 
Bristol,  in  the  Karntner-Ring,  in  the  Lichtenstein  Gallery, 

[37] 


The    Husbands   of   Edith 

in  the  Gardens  —  no  matter  where  he  went  —  if  he  were 
to  be  accosted  by  any  of  the  genial  architects  it  was  always 
in  a  voice  that  attracted  attention  ;  he  could  have  heard 
them  if  they  had  been  a  block  away.  It  became  a  habit 
with  him  to  instinctively  lift  his  hand  to  his  ear  when  one 
of  them  hove  in  sight,  having  seen  him  first. 

"  That 's  what  I  get  for  being  a  liar,"  he  lamented  dole 
fully.  Constance  had  just  whispered  her  condolences. 
"  Do  you  think  they  '11  consider  it  odd  that  you  don't 
shout  at  me  too  ?  " 

"  You  might  explain  that  you  can  tell  what  I  am  saying 
by  looking  at  my  lips,"  she  said.  He  was  immensely 
relieved. 

Considerable  difficulty  had  to  be  overcome  at  the  Bristol 
in  the  matter  of  rooms.  Without  going  into  details,  Brock 
resignedly  took  the  only  room  left  in  the  crowded  hotel  — 
a  six  by  ten  cubby-hole  on  the  top  floor  overlooking  the  air- 
shaft.  He  had  to  go  down  one  flight  for  his  morning  tub, 
and  he  never  got  it  because  he  refused  to  stand  in  line  and 
await  his  turn.  Mrs.  Medcroft  had  the  choicest  room  in 
the  hotel,  looking  down  upon  the  beautiful  Karntner-Ring. 
Constance  proposed,  in  the  goodness  of  her  heart,  to  give 
up  to  Brock  her  own  room,  adjoining  that  of  her  sister, 
provided  Edith  would  take  her  in  to  sleep  with  her.  Edith 
was  perfectly  willing,  but  interposed  the  sage  conclusion 
that  gossiping  menials  might  not  appreciate  a  preference  so 
unique. 

Mr.  Roxbury  Medcroft's  sky  parlour  adjoined  the  eleva 
tor  shaft.  The  head  of  his  bed  was  in  close  proximity  to 
the  upper  mechanism  of  the  lift,  a  thin  wall  intervening. 
A  French  architect,  who  had  a  room  hard  by,  met  Brock  in 
the  hall,  hollow-eyed  and  haggard,  on  the  morning  after 

[38] 


The    Distant    Cousins 

their  first  night.  He  shouted  lugubrious  congratulations  in 
Brock's  ear,  just  as  if  Brock's  ear  had  not  been  harassed 
a  whole  night  long  by  shrieking  wheels  and  rasping  cables. 

"  Monsieur  is  very  fortunate  in  being  so  afflicted,"  he 
boomed.  "  A  thousand  times  in  the  night  have  I  wished 
that  I  might  be  deaf  also.  Ah,  even  an  affliction  such  as 
yours,  monsieur,  has  its  benedictions  !  " 

Matters  drifted  along  smoothly,  even  merrily,  for  several 
days.  They  were  all  young  and  full  of  the  joy  of  living. 
They  laughed  in  secret  over  the  mishaps  and  perils ;  they 
whirled  and  enjoyed  the  spice  that  filled  the  atmosphere  in 
which  they  lived.  They  visited  the  gardens  and  the  Hofs, 
the  Chateau  at  Schonbrunn,  the  Imperial  stables,  the  gay 
"Venice  in  Vienna"  ;  they  attended  the  opera  and  the  con 
certs,  ever  in  a  most  circumspect  "  trinity,"  as  Brock  had 
come  to  classify  their  parties.  Like  a  dutiful  husband,  he 
always  included  his  wife  in  the  expeditions. 

"  You  are  not  only  a  most  exemplary  wife,  Mrs.  Med- 
croft,"  he  declared,  "but  an  unusually  agreeable  chaperon. 
I  don't  know  how  Constance  and  I  could  get  on  without 
you." 

But  the  day  of  severest  trial  was  now  at  hand.  The 
Rodneys  were  arriving  on  the  fifth  day  from  Berlin. 
Despite  the  fact  that  the  Seattle  "  connections  "  had  never 
seen  the  illustrious  Medcroft,  husband  to  their  distant  cousin, 
there  still  remained  the  disturbing  fear  that  they  would 
recognise  —  or  rather  fail  to  recognise  him  !  —  from  chance 
pictures  that  might  have  come  to  their  notice.  Besides, 
there  was  always  the  possibility  that  they  had  seen  or  even 
met  Brock  in  New  York.  He  lugubriously  admitted  that 
he  had  met  unfortunate  thousands  whom  he  had  promptly 
forgotten  but  who  seldom  failed  to  remember  him.  It  is 

[39 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

not  surprising,  then,  that  the  Medcrofts,  ex  parte,  were  in  a 
state  of  perturbation,  —  a  condition  which  did  not  relax 
in  the  kast  as  the  time  drew  near  for  the  arrival  of  the 
five  o'clock  train  from  the  north.  Constance  strove  faith 
fully,  even  valiantly,  to  inject  confidence  into  the  souls  of 
the  prime  conspirators. 

"  You  have  done  so  beautifully  up  to  this  time,"  she 
protested  to  the  dolorous  Brock,  "  why  should  you  be 
afraid  ?  I  once  read  of  an  Indian  chief  whose  name 
was  Young-Man-Afraid-of-his-Wife  !  He  was  a  very 
brave  fellow  in  spite  of  all  that.  You  are  afraid  of  Edith, 
but  can't  you  be  like  the  Indian  ?  He  —  " 

"That's  all  very  nice,"  mourned  Brock,  "but  he  could 
cover  his  confusion  with  war  paint.  Don't  forget  that,  my 
dear.  Think  of  the  difference  in  our  disguises  !  War 
paint  in  daubs  versus  spats  and  an  eyeglass.  Besides,  he 
did  n't  have  to  talk  West  End  English.  And,  moreover, 
he  lived  in  a  wigwam,  and  did  n't  have  to  explain  a  sky 
bedroom  to  strangers  who  happened  along." 

"  That  is  a  bit  awkward,"  she  confessed  thoughtfully. 
"  But  can't  you  say  that  you  have  insomnia,  and  can't  sleep 
unless  you  are  above  the  noise  of  the  street  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  an  expression  that  made  a  verbal 
reply  to  this  suggestion  altogether  unnecessary. 

"  Nurse  says  that  Tootles  has  forgotten  the  real  Rox- 
bury,"  she  went  on,  after  a  moment.  "  See  how  cleverly 
you  have  played  the  part." 

Still  he  stared  moodily,  unconvinced,  at  the  roadway 
ahead.  They  were  driving  in  the  Haupt  Alice. 

"  I  hope  I  have  n't  got  Roxbury  into  trouble  by  that 
interview  I  gave  out  concerning  the  new  method  of  fire- 
proofing  woodwork  in  office  buildings  and  hotels.  It 

[40] 


The   Distant    Cousins 

occurred  to  me  afterward  that  he  is  violently  opposed 
to  the  system.  I  advocated  it.  He'll  have  a  —  I  might 
say,  a  devil  of  a  time  explaining  his  change  of  front." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  Medcroft,  hiding  in  London, 
saw  the  reproduced  interview  in  the  "  Times,"  together 
with  editorial  comments  upon  the  extraordinary  attitude  of 
a  supposedly  conservative  Englishman  of  recognised  ability, 
he  was  tried  almost  beyond  endurance.  For  the  next  two 
or  three  days  the  newspapers  printed  caustic  contributions 
from  fellow  architects  and  builders,  in  each  of  which  the 
luckless  Medcroft  was  taken  to  task  for  advocating  an 
impractical  and  fatuous  New  York  hobby  in  the  way  of 
construction, —  something  that  staid  old  London  would  not 
even  tolerate  or  discuss.  The  social  chroniclings  of  the 
Medcrofts  in  Vienna,  as  despatched  by  the  correspondents, 
offset  this  unhappy  "  bull  "  to  some  extent,  in  so  far  as 
Medcroft's  peace  of  mind  was  concerned,  but  nothing  could 
have  drawn  attention  to  the  fact  that  he  was  not  in  London 
at  that  particular  time  so  decisively  as  the  Vienna  interview 
and  its  undefended  front.  Even  his  shrewdest  enemy  could 
not  have  suspected  Medcroft  of  a  patience  which  would 
permit  him  to  sit  quiet  in  London  while  the  attacks  were 
going  on.  He  found  some  small  solace  in  the  reflection 
that  he  could  make  the  end  justify  the  means. 

On  their  return  to  the  Bristol,  Brock  and  Miss  Fowler 
found  the  fair  Edith  in  a  pitiful  state  of  collapse.  She  de 
clared  over  and  over  again  that  she  could  not  face  the  Rod 
neys  ;  it  was  more  than  should  be  expected  of  her ;  she 
was  sure  that  something  would  go  wrong  ;  why,  oh,  why 
was  it  necessary  to  deceive  the  Rodneys  ?  Why  should 
they  be  kept  in  the  dark  ?  Why  was  n't  Roxbury  there  to 
counsel  wisely  — and  more,  ad  infinitum,  until  the  distracted 

[41] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

pair  were  on  the  point  of  deserting  the  cause.  She  finally 
dissolved  into  tears,  and  would  not  listen  to  reason,  expos 
tulation,  or  persuasion.  It  was  then  that  Brock  cruelly  but 
effectively  declared  his  intention  to  abdicate,  as  he  also  had 
a  reputation  to  preserve.  Whereupon,  with  a  fine  sense  of 
distinction,  she  flared  up  and  accused  him  of  treachery  to 
his  best  friend,  Roxbury  Medcroft,  who  was  reposing  the 
utmost  confidence  in  his  friendship  and  loyalty.  How 
could  she  be  expected  to  go  on  with  the  play  if  he,  the 
man  upon  whom  everything  depended,  was  to  turn  tail 
in  a  critical  hour  like  this  ? 

"  How  can  you  have  the  heart  to  spoil  everything  ?  "  she 
cried  indignantly.  He  looked  at  her  in  fresh  amazement. 
"  Roxbury  would  never  forgive  you.  We  have  both  placed 
the  utmost  confidence  in  you,  Mr.  Brock,  and  —  " 

" 'Sh  !  Say  c  Roxbury,  dear' !  "  interposed  the  practical 
Constance.  "The  walls  may  have  ears,  my  dears." 

Then  Mrs.  Medcroft  plaintively  implored  his  forgive 
ness,  and  said  that  she  was  miserable  and  ashamed  and  very 
unappreciative.  Brock,  in  deep  humility,  begged  her  pardon 
for  his  unnecessary  harshness,  and  promised  not  to  offend 
again. 

"The  first  quarrel,"  cried  Constance  delightedly.  "  How 
nicely  you  've  made  it  up.  And  you  've  been  married  less 
than  a  week  !  " 

"  Roxbury  and  I  did  n't  have  our  first  quarrel  until  we  'd 
been  married  a  year,"  said  Edith  reflectively. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Edith,"  exclaimed  Brock,  with  a  dark 
frown,  "  I  'd  rather  you  would  n't  be  forever  extolling  the 
good  qualities  of  my  predecessor.  It 's  very  bad  taste. 
Very  much  like  the  pies  mother  used  to  make." 

"Silly  !  "  cried  Medcroft's  wife,  now  in  fine  humour. 

[4*] 


The   Distant    Cousins 

"  Besides,  Rox  is  an  Englishman.  It  would  take  him 
a  year  to  produce  a  quarrel.  The  American  husband  is 
not  so  confounded  slow.  I  won't  live  up  to  Roxbury  in 
everything." 

It  was  decided  that  Constance  should  greet  the  Rodneys 
upon  their  arrival ;  the  Medcrofts  were  not  to  appear  until 
dinner  time.  Afterwards  the  entire  party  would  attend  the 
opera,  which  was  then  in  the  closing  week.  Brock,  with 
splendid  prodigality,  had  taken  a  box  for  the  final  perform 
ance  of  "  Tristan  and  Isolde."  It  is  not  out  of  place  to 
remark  that  Brock  loathed  the  Wagnerian  opera ;  he  was 
of  u  The  Mikado  "  cult.  He  took  the  seats  with  a  definite 
purpose  in  mind  to  cast  the  burden  of  responsibility  upon 
his  wife,  who  would  be  forced  to  extend  herself  in  the 
capacity  of  hostess,  giving  him  the  much-needed  oppor 
tunity  to  secure  safe  footing  in  the  dark  area  of  uncer 
tainty.  He  believed  himself  capable  of  diverting  the 
youthful  Miss  Rodney  and  his  discreet  sister-in-law,  but 
he  was  consumed  by  an  unholy  dread  of  Rodney  pere ; 
something  told  him  that  this  shrewd  American  business 
man  was  not  the  kind  who  would  have  the  wool  pulled 
over  his  eyes  by  anyone.  Brock  felt  that  the  support  of 
Constance  was  of  greater  value  than  that  of  Edith  at  any 
stage  or  in  any  emergency. 

Besides,  he  was  now  quite  palpably  in  love  with  her ! 
"  I  've  got  it  bad  !  "  he  reflected  in  sober  consideration  of 
his  plight.  "  But,"  came  the  ironic  justification,  "  I  'm 
able  to  confine  it  to  the  immediate  family.  That's  more 
than  most  husbands  can  say." 

The  Rodneys  descended  upon  the  Bristol  at  five  o'clock, 
rushing  down  from  the  Nord-Bahnhof  as  if  there  was  not 
a  minute  to  spare.  Constance  pursued  Katherine  to  her 

[43] 


The   Husbands 

room,  where   they  revelled   in   the  delights   of  a 
gradually  coming  out  of  its  throes  as  the  hour  for  dressing 
approached. 

"  We  dine  early,  dear,"  said  Constance,  u  with  supper 
after  the  opera.  I  must  be  off  to  dress." 

"  I  am  so  eager  to  meet  Mr.  Medcroft.      Is  he  nice  ?  " 

"  He  's  the  dearest  thing  in  the  world,"  cried  the  other, 
her  cheeks  aglow. 

"  I  'm  so  glad,  on  Edith's  account.  Most  of  these 
English  matches  turn  out  abominably,"  commented  Miss 
Rodney,  who  was  twenty,  very  pretty,  and  very  worldly. 
"  Oh,  did  I  tell  you  that  Freddie  Ulstervelt  is  with  us  ? " 

«  No !  " 

"  We  came  across  him  in  Berlin,  and  dad  asked  him  to 
join  us,  if  he  had  nothing  better  to  do,  so  he  said  he  would. 
He  was  with  us  in  Dresden  and  Prague  and  —  don't  you 
think  he  's  awfully  jolly  ?  " 

"  Ripping  !  "  said  Constance  with  deplorable  fervour. 

"  How  awfully  English !  He  said  he  'd  seen  you  in 
Paris  this  spring." 

41  Yes,"  said  Miss  Fowler,  her  cheeks  going  red  sud 
denly.  "  I  told  him  you  'd  asked  me  to  be  with  you  in 
June."  She  could  have  cut  out  her  tongue  for  saying  this, 
but  it  was  too  late.  Katherine  laughed  a  trifle  hardly  after 
a  stiff  moment;  then  a  queer  light  flitted  into  her  eyes, — 
the  light  of  awakened  opposition.  Constance  was  saying 
to  herself,  "  She 's  in  love  with  Freddie.  I  might*  have 
known  it."  Back  in  her  brain  lay  the  memory  of  Freddie's 
violent  protestations  of  love,  uttered  during  those  recent 
days  in  Paris.  He  had  threatened  to  throw  himself  into 
5  remembered 


>eme 


quite 


fact  that  he  did  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  had  a  very  jolly 

[44] 


Katherine 


The   Distant    Cousins 

time  at  Maxim's  and  sent  her  flowers  by  way  of  repentance. 
Knowing  Freddie  so  well,  it  would  not  have  surprised  her 
in  the  least  to  find  that  he  had  become  engaged  to  Katherine. 
His  heart  was  a  very  flexible  organ. 

"  Oh,"  said  Katherine,  "  I  believe  he  did  say  that  you 
had  mentioned  us."  Of  herself  she  was  asking :  "  I  wonder 
if  she  is  in  love  with  him  !  " 

And  thus  it  transpired  that  Freddie  Ulstervelt  —  addle- 
pated,  good-looking,  inconstant  Freddie,  just  out  of  college 
—  was  transformed  into  a  bone  of  contention,  whether  he 
would  or  no. 

He  was  of  the  kind  who  love  or  make  love  to  every 
new  girl  they  meet,  seriously  enough  at  the  time,  but  easily 
passed  over  if  need  be.  Rebuffs  may  have  puzzled  him, 
but  they  left  no  jagged  scar.  He  belonged  to  that  class 
which  upsets  the  tranquillity  of  inexperienced  maidens  by 
whispering  intensely,  "  God,  it 's  grand  !  "  And  he  means 
it  at  the  moment. 

Katherine  Rodney  was  in  love  with  him.  He  belonged 
to  a  fashionable  New  York  family  of  wealth,  and  he  had 
been  a  young  lion  at  Pasadena  during  the  winter  just  past. 
He  owned  automobiles  and  a  yacht  and  —  an  extensive 
wardrobe.  These  notable  assets  had  much  to  do  with  the 
conquest  of  Mrs.  Rodney  :  she  looked  with  favour  upon 
the  transitory  Mr.  Ulstervelt,  and  believed  in  her  heart  that 
he  had  something  to  do  with  the  location  of  the  shining 
sun.  But  of  this  affair  more  anon,  as  the  novelists  say. 

Brock  was  presented  to  the  Rodneys  just  before  the  party 
went  in  to  dinner.  He  managed  his  eyeglass  and  his  drawl 
bravely,  and  got  on  swimmingly  with  the  elder  Rodneys, 
until  Constance  appeared  with  Katherine  and  Freddie 
Ulstervelt.  It  was  not  until  then  that  it  occurred  to  Miss 

[45] 


w 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

Fowler  that  Freddie,  being  from  New  York,  was  almost 
certain  to  know  Brock  either  personally  or  by  sight.  She 
experienced  a  cold  chill,  the  distinct  approach  of  catastrophe. 
Brock  had  just  been  told  that  young  Ulstervelt  of  New 
York  was  to  be  of  the  party.  His  blood  ran  cold.  He 
had  never  seen  the  young  man,  but  he  knew  his  father 
well ;  he  had  even  dined  at  the  mansion  in  Madison 
Avenue.  There  was  every  reason,  however,  to  suspect 
that  Freddie  knew  him  by  sight.  Even  as  he  was  planning 
a  mode  of  defence  in  case  of  recognition,  the  young  man 
was  presented.  Brock's  drawl  was  something  wonderful. 

"I  —  aw  —  knew  your  family,  I'm  sure  —  aw,  quite 
sure,"  he  said.  "  You  know,  of  course,  that  I  lived  in 
your  —  aw  —  delightful  city  for  some  years.  Strange  we 
never  met,  'pon  my  soul." 

"Oh,  New  York's  a  pretty  big  place,  Mr.  Medcroft," 
said  Freddie  good-naturedly.  He  was  a  slight  young  fellow 
with  a  fresh,  inquisitive  face.  "  It 's  bigger  than  London 
in  some  ways.  It 's  bigger  upwards.  Say,  do  you  know, 
you  remind  me  of  a  fellow  I  knew  in  New  York  !  " 

"  Haw,  haw  !  "  laughed  Brock,  without  grace  or  reason. 
Miss  Fowler  caught  her  breath  sharply. 

"  Fellow  named  Brock.  Stupid  sort  of  chap,  my  mother 
says.  I  —  " 

"Oh,  dear  me,  Mr.  Ulstervelt,"  cried  Edith,  breaking 
in,  "you  shan't  say  anything  mean  about  Mr.  Brock. 
He 's  my  husband's  best  friend." 

"  I  did  n't  say  it,  Mrs.  Medcroft.  It  was  my  mother." 
Brock  was  hiding  a  smile  behind  his  hand.  "She  knows 
him  better  than  I.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  've  never  met  him, 
but  I  've  seen  him  on  the  Fifth  Avenue  stages.  You  do 
look  like  him,  though,  by  Jove." 

F461 


The    Distant    Cousins 

"  It 's  extraordinary  how  many  people  think  I  look  like 
dear  old  Brock,"  said  the  false  Roxbury.  "But,  on  the 
other  hand,  most  people  think  that  Brock  looks  like  me, 
so  what 's  the  odds  ?  Haw',  haw  !  Ripping  !  Eh,  Mr. 
Rodney  ?  " 

"  Ripping  ?  Ripping  what  ?  Good  God,  am  I  ripping 
anything  ?  "  gasped  Mr.  Rodney,  who  was  fussy  and  fat 
and  generally  futile.  He  seemed  to  grow  suddenly  un 
comfortable,  as  if  ripping  was  a  habit  with  him. 

Dinner  was  a  success.  Brock  shone  with  a  refulgence 
that  bedimmed  all  expectations.  His  wife  was  delighted; 
in  all  of  the  four  years  of  married  life,  Roxbury  had  never 
been  so  brilliant,  so  deliciously  English  (to  use  her  own 
expression).  Constance  tingled  with  pride.  Of  late,  she 
had  experienced  unusual  difficulty  in  diverting  her  gaze 
from  the  handsome  impostor,  and  her  thoughts  were  ever 
of  him  —  in  justification  of  a  platonic  interest,  of  course, 
no  more  than  that.  To-night  her  eyes  and  thoughts  were 
for  him  alone,  —  a  circumstance  which,  could  he  have  felt 
sure,  would  have  made  him  wildly  happy,  instead  of  in 
ordinately  furious  in  his  complete  misunderstanding  of  her 
manner  toward  Freddie  Ulstervelt,  who  had  no  compunc 
tion  about  making  love  to  two  girls  at  the  same  time.  She 
was  never  so  beautiful,  never  so  vivacious,  never  so  re 
sourceful.  Brock  was  under  the  spell;  he  was  fascinated  ; 
he  had  to  look  to  himself  carefully  in  order  to  keep  his  wits 
in  the  prescribed  channel. 

His  self-esteem  received  a  severe  shock  at  the  opera. 
Mrs.  Medcroft,  with  malice  aforethought,  insisted  that 
Ulstervelt  should  take  her  husband's  seat.  As  the  box 
held  but  six  persons,  the  unfortunate  Brock  was  compelled 
to  shift  more  or  less  for  himself.  Inwardly  raging,  he 

[471 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

suavely  assured  the  party  —  Freddie  in  particular  —  that 
he  would  find  a  seat  in  the  body  of  the  house  and  would 
join  them  during  the  Entr'acte.  Then  he  went  out  and 
sat  in  the  foyer.  It  was  fortunate  that  he  hated  Wagner. 
Before  the  end  of  the  act  he  was  joined  by  Mr.  Rodney, 
horribly  bored  and  eager  for  relief.  In  a  near-by  cafe  they 
had  a  whiskey  and  soda  apiece,  and,  feeling  comfortably 
reinforced,  returned  to  the  opera  house  arm-in-arm,  long 
and  short,  thin  and  fat,  liberally  discoursing  upon  the  in 
tellectuality  of  Herr  Wagner. 

"Say,  you're  not  at  all  like  an  Englishman,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Rodney  impulsively,  even  gratefully. 

"  Eh,  what  ? "  gasped  Brock,  replacing  his  eyeglass. 
"  Oh,  I  say,  now,  'pon  my  word,  haw,  haw  !  " 

"  You  've  got  an  American  sense  of  humour,  Medcroft, 
that 's  what  you  have.  You  recognise  the  joke  that 
Wagner  played  on  the  world.  Pardon  me  for  saying  it, 
sir,  but  I  did  n't  think  it  was  in  an  Englishman." 

"  Haw,  haw  !  Ripping,  by  Jove  !  No,  no  !  Not  you.  I 
mean  the  joke.  But  then,  you  see,  it 's  been  so  long  since 
Wagner  played  it  that  even  an  Englishman  has  had  time 
to  see  the  point.  Besides,  I  've  lived  a  bit  of  my  life  in 
America." 

"  That  accounts  for  it,"  said  the  tactless  but  sincere 
Mr.  Rodney. 

Brock  glared  so  venomously  at  the  intrusive  Mr.  Ul- 
stervelt  upon  the  occasion  of  his  next  visit  to  his  own 
box,  that  Mrs.  Medcroft  smiled  softly  to  herself  as  she 
turned  her  face  away.  A  few  minutes  later  she  seized 
the  opportunity  to  whisper  in  his  ear.  Her  eyes  were 
sparkling,  and  something  in  her  manner  bespoke  the  bated 
breath. 

[48] 


The    Distant    Cousins 

"  You  are  in  love  with  my  sister,"  was  what  she  said  to 
him.  He  blushed  convincingly. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  he  managed  to  reply,  but  without  much 
persuasiveness. 

u  But  you  are.  I  'm  not  blind.  Anyone  can  see  it. 
She  sees  it.  Have  n't  you  sense  enough  to  hide  it  from 
her  ?  How  do  you  expect  to  win  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  —  my  dear  Edith,  you  amaze  me.  I  'm 
confusion  itself.  But,"  he  went  on  eagerly,  illogically,  "  do 
you  think  I  could  win  her  ?  " 

"That  is  not  for  one's  wife  to  say,"  she  said  demurely. 

"  I  'd  be  tremendously  proud  of  you  as  a  sister-in-law. 
And  I  'd  be  much  obliged  if  you  'd  help  me.  But  look  at 
that  confounded  Ulstervelt  !  He  's  making  love  to  her  with 
the  whole  house  looking  on." 

"  I  think  it  might  be  polite  if  you  were  to  ask  him  out 
for  a  drink,"  she  suggested. 

"  But  I  've  had  one  and  I  never  take  two." 

"  Model  husband  !  Then  take  the  girls  into  the  foyer 
for  a  stroll  and  a  chat  after  the  act.  Don't  mind  me. 
I  'm  your  friend." 

"  Do  you  think  I  've  got  a  chance  with  her  ?  "  he  asked 
with  a  brave  effort. 

"  You  've  had  one  wife  thrust  upon  you  ;  why  should 
you  expect  another  without  a  struggle  ?  I  'm  afraid  you  '11 
have  to  work  for  Constance." 

"  But  I  have  your — I  can  count  on  your  approval?  " 
he  whispered  eagerly. 

"  Don't,  Roxbury  !  People  will  think  you  are  making 
love  to  me!"  she  protested,  wilfully  ignoring  his  question. 

He  returned  to  the  box  after  the  second  act  and  proposed 
a  turn  in  the  foyer.  To  his  disgust,  Ulstervelt  appropriated 

+  [49] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

Constance  and  left  him  to  follow  with  Mrs.  Rodney  and 
Katherine.  He  almost  hated  Edith  for  the  tantalising 
smile  she  shot  after  him  as  he  moved  away,  defeated. 

If  he  was  glaring  luridly  at  the  irrepressible  Freddie,  he 
was  not  alone  in  his  gloom.  Katherine  Rodney,  green 
with  jealousy,  was  sending  spiteful  glances  after  her  dearest 
friend,  while  Mrs.  Rodney  was  sniffing  the  air  as  if  it  was 
laden  with  frost. 

"  Don't  you  think  Connie  is  a  perfect  dear  ?  I  'm  so 
fond  of  her,"  said  Miss  Rodney,  so  sweetly  that  he  should 
have  detected  the  nether-flow. 

He  started  and  pulled  himself  together.  "Aw,  yes,  — 
ripping  !  "  He  consciously  adjusted  his  eyeglass  for  a  hasty 
glance  about  in  search  of  the  easily  .disturbed  Mr.  Rodney. 
Then,  to  Mrs.  Rodney,  his  mind  a  blank  after  a  passing 
glimpse  of  Constance  and  her  escort :  "  Aw  —  er  —  a 
perfectly  jolly  opera,  is  n't  it  ?  " 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    WOULD-BE    BROTHER-IN-LAW 

THE  next  morning,  bright  and  early,  Mr.  Alfred 
Rodney,  a  telegram  in  his  hand,  charged  down  the 
hall  to  Mrs.  Medcroft's  door.  With  characteristic 
Far  West  impulsiveness  he  banged  on  the  door.  A  sleepy 
voice  asked  who  was  there. 

"It's  me  —  Rodney.  Get  up.  I  want  to  see  Med- 
croft.  Say,  Roxbury,  wake  up  !  " 

"  Roxbury  ?  "  came  in  shrill  tones  from  within.  "  He  — 
Is  n't  he  upstairs  ?  Good  heaven,  Mr.  Rodney,  what  has 
happened  ?  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Upstairs  ?     What  the  deuce  is  he  doing  upstairs  ?  " 

"  He  's  —  he  's  sleeping  !  Do  tell  me  what 's  the 
matter?  " 

"  Is  n't  this  Mr.  Medcroft's  room  ?  " 

"  Ye-es  —  but  he  isn't  in.  He  objects  to  the  noise. 
Oh,  has  anything  happened  to  Roxbury  ? "  She  was  stand 
ing  just  inside  the  door,  and  her  voice  betrayed  agitation. 

"  My  dear  Edith,  don't  get  excited.  I  have  a  telegram 
from  —  " 

She  uttered  a  shriek. 

"  He  's  been  assassinated  !     Oh,  Roxbury  !  " 

"  What  the  dev —  Are  you  crazy  ?  It  's  a  telegram 
from  —  " 

[51] 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

"  Oh,  heavens  !  I  knew  they  'd  kill  him  —  I  knew 
something  dreadful  would  happen  if  I  left  —  Here  she 

stopped  suddenly.  He  distinctly  heard  her  catch  her 
breath.  After  a  moment  she  went  on  warily  :  "  Is  it  from 
a  man  named  Hobart  ?  "  » 

"  No  !  It 's  from  Odell-Carney.  Hobart  ?  I  don't 
know  anybody  named  Hobart."  (How  was  he  to  know 
that  Hobart  was  the  name  that  Medcroft  had  chosen  for 
correspondence  purposes?)  "We're  to  meet  the  Odell- 
Carneys  to-day  in  Munich.  No  time  to  be  lost.  We've 
got  to  catch  the  nine  o'clock  train." 

"  Oh  !  "  came  in  great  relief  from  the  other  side  of  the 
door.  Then,  in  sudden  dismay :  "  But  I  can't  do  it ! 
The  idea  of  getting  up  at  an  hour  like  this  !  " 

"  What  room  is  Roxbury  in  ?  " 

"I  —  don't  KNOW  !  !  "  in  very  decided  tones.  "  Inquire 
at  the  office  !  " 

Alfred  Rodney  was  a  persevering  man.  It  is  barely 
possible  that  he  occupied  a  lower  social  plane  than  that 
attained  by  his  wife,  but  he  was  a  man  of  accomplishment, 
if  not  accomplishments.  He  always  did  what  he  set  out  to 
do.  Be  it  said  in  defence  of  this  assertion,  he  not  only 
routed  out  his  entire  protesting  flock,  but  had  them  at  the 
West-Bahnhof  in  time  to  catch  the  Orient  Express  —  lug 
gage,  accessories,  and  all.  Be  it  also  said  that  he  was  the 
only  one  in  the  party,  save  Constance  and  Tootles,  who 
took  to  the  situation  amiably. 

"  Damn  the  Odell-Carneys,"  was  what  Freddie  Ulster- 
velt  said  as  the  train  drew  out  of  the  station.  Brock 
looked  up  approvingly. 

"  That 's  the  first  sensible  thing  I  've  heard  him  say," 
he  muttered  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  Miss  Fowler. 

[52] 


The    Would-be   Brother -in- Law 

"  I  say,  who  are  the  Odell-Carneys  ?  First  I  've  heard 
of  'em." 

"  The  Odell-Carneys  ?  Oh,  dear,  have  you  never  heard 
of  them  ? "  she  cried  in  surprise.  He  felt  properly  re 
buked.  "  They  are  very  swell  Londoners.  It  is  said  —  " 

"  Then,  good  heavens,  they  '11  know  I  'm  not  Medcroft," 
he  whispered  in  alarm. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  Roxbury.  That 's  just  where 
you  're  wrong.  They  don't  know  Roxbury  the  first. 
I  've  gone  over  it  all  with  Edith.  She  's  just  crazy  to  get 
into  the  Odell-Carney  set.  I  regret  to  say  that  they  have 
failed  to  notice  the  Medcrofts  up  to  this  time.  Secretly, 
Edith  has  ambitions.  She  has  gone  to  the  Lord  Mayor's 
dinners  and  to  the  Royal  Antiquarians  and  to  Sir  John 
Brodney's  and  a  lot  of  other  functions  on  the  outer  rim,  but 
she  's  never  been  able  to  break  through  the  crust  and  taste 
the  real  sweets  of  London  society.  My  dear  Roxbury,  the 
Odell-Carneys  entertain  the  nobility  without  compunction, 
and  they  've  been  known  to  hobnob  with  royalty.  Mrs. 
Odell-Carney  was  a  Lady  Somebody-or-other  before  she 
married  the  second  time.  She  's  terribly  smart,  Roxbury." 

"  How,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  do  they  happen  to  be 
hobnobbing,  as  you  call  it,  with  the  Rodneys,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  seems  that  Odell-Carney  is  promoting  a  new 
South  African  mining  venture.  I  have  it  from  Freddie 
Ulstervelt  that  he  's  trying  to  sell  something  like  a  million 
shares  to  Mr.  Rodney,  who  has  loads  of  money  that  came 
from  real  mines  in  the  Far  West.  He  'd  never  be  such  a 
fool  as  to  sink  a  million  in  South  Africa,  you  know,  but 
he  's  just  clever  enough  to  see  the  advantage  of  keeping 
Odell-Carney  in  tow,  as  it  were.  It  means  a  great  deal 
to  Mrs.  Rodney,  don't  you  know,  Roxbury,  to  be  able  to 

[53] 


The   Husbands   of   Edith 

say  that  she  toured  with  the  Odell-Carneys.  Freddie  says 
that  Cousin  Alfred  is  talking  in  a  very  diplomatic  manner 
of  going  on  to  London  in  August  to  look  fully  into  the 
master.  It  is  understood  that  the  Rodneys  are  to  be  the 
guests  of  the  Odell-Carneys  while  in  London.  It  won't 
be  the  season,  of  course,  so  there  won't  be  much  of  a  com 
motion  in  the  smart  set.  It  is  our  dear  Edith's  desire  to 
slip  into  the  charmed  circle  through  the  rift  that  the  Rod 
neys  make.  Do  you  comprehend  ?  " 

They  were  seated  side  by  side  in  the  corner  of  the  com 
partment,  his  broad  back  screening  her  as  much  as  possi 
ble  from  the  persistent  glances  of  Freddie  Ulstervelt,  who 
was  nobly  striving  to  confine  his  attentions  to  {Catherine. 
Brock's  eyes  were  devouring  her  exquisite  face  with  a 
greediness  that  might  have  caused  her  some  uneasiness  if 
there  had  not  been  something  pleasantly  agreeable  in  his 
way  of  doing  it. 

"Yes — faintly,"  he  replied,  after  an  almost  impercepti 
ble  conflict  between  the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing.  "  But 
how  does  she  intend  to  explain  me  away  ?  I  '11  be  a  dread 
ful  skeleton  in  her  closet  if  it  comes  to  that.  When  she 
is  obliged  to  produce  the  real  Roxbury,  what  then  ? " 

"  She 's  thought  it  all  out,  Roxbury,"  said  Constance 
severely  but  almost  inaudibly.  "  I  'm  sure  Freddie  heard 
part  of  what  you  said.  Do  be  careful.  She 's  going  to  re 
veal  the  whole  plot  to  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  just  as  soon  as 
Roxbury  gives  the  word  —  treating  it  as  a  very  clever  and 
necessary  ruse,  don't  you  see.  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  will 
be  implored  to  aid  in  the  deception  for  a  few  days,  and 
she  '11  consent,  because  she  's  really  quite  a  bit  of  a  sport. 
At  the  psychological  moment  the  Rodneys  will  be  told. 
That  places  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  in  the  position  of  being  an 

f54] 


The    Would-be  Brother -in-Law 

abettor  or  accomplice :  she 's  had  the  distinction  of  being 
a  sharer  in  a  most  glorious  piece  of  strategy.  Don't  you 
see  how  charmingly  it  will  all  work  in  the  end  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  two  whispering  about  ? "  demanded 
Freddie  Ulstervelt  noisily,  patience  coming  to  an  end. 

"Wha  —  what  the  devil  is  that  to  — "  began  Brock 
furiously.  Constance  brought  him  up  sharp  with  a  warn 
ing  kick  on  the  ankle.  He  vowed  afterward  that  he 
would  carry  the  mark  to  his  grave. 

"  He 's  telling  me  what  a  nice  chap  you  are,  Freddie," 
said  she  sweetly.  Brock  glared  out  of  the  window. 
Freddie  sniffed  scornfully. 

"  I  'm  getting  sick  of  this  job,"  growled  Brock  under 
his  breath.  "  I  did  n't  calculate  on  —  " 

"  Now,  Roxbury  dear,  don't  b.  e  a  bear,"  she  pleaded  so 
gently,  her  eyes  so  full  of  appeal,  that  he  flushed  with  sudden 
shame  and  contrition. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  the  old  light  coming  back  into 
his  eyes  so  strongly  that  she  quivered  for  an  instant  before 
lowering  her  own.  "  I  hate  that  confounded  puppy,"  he 
explained  lamely,  guarding  his  voice  with  a  new  care.  u  If 
you  felt  as  I  do,  you  would  too." 

She  laughed  in  the  old  way,  but  she  was  not  soon  to 
forget  that  moment  when  panic  was  so  imminent. 

"I  —  I  don't  see  how  anyone  can  help  liking  Freddie," 
she  said,  without  actually  knowing  why.  He  stared  hard 
at  the  Danube  below.  After  a  long  silence  he  said, — 

"  It 's  all  tommy-rot  about  it  being  blue,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

She  was  also  looking  at  the  dark  brown,  swollen  river 
that  has  been  immortalised  in  song. 

"  It 's  never  blue.  It 's  always  a  yellow-ochre,  it  seems 
to  me." 

[55] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

He  waited  a  long  time  before  venturing  to  express  the 
thought  that  of  late  had  been  troubling  him  seriously. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  truly  realise  the  difficulty  Edith  will 
have  in  satisfying  an  incredulous  world  with  her  absolutely 
truthful  story.  She  '11  have  to  explain,  you  know.  There's 
bound  to  be  a  sceptic  or  two,  my  dear  Constance." 

"  But  there  's  Roxbury,"  she  protested,  her  face  clouding 
nevertheless.  "  He  will  set  everything  right." 

"The  world  will  say  he  is  a  gullible  fool,"  said  he 
gently.  "  And  the  world  always  laughs  at,  not  with,  a  fool. 
Alas,  my  dear  sister,  it 's  a  very  deep  pool  we  're  in."  He 
leaned  closer  and  allowed  a  quaint,  half-bantering,  wholly 
diffident  smile  to  cross  his  face.  "I  —  I  'm  afraid  that 
you  are  the  only  being  on  earth  who  can  make  the  story 
thoroughly  plausible." 

"  I  ?  "  she  demanded  quickly.  Their  eyes  met,  and  the 
wonder  suddenly  left  hers.  She  blushed  furiously.  "  Non 
sense  !  "  she  said,  and  abruptly  left  him  to  take  a  seat  be 
side  {Catherine  Rodney.  He  found  small  comfort  in  the 
whisperings  and  titterings  that  came,  willy-nilly,  to  his 
burning  ears  from  the  corner  of  the  compartment.  He 
had  a  disquieting  impression  that  they  were  discussing  him; 
it  was  forced  in  upon  him  that  being' a  brother-in-law  is  not 
an  enviable  occupation. 

"  Wot  ?  "  he  asked,  almost  fiercely,  after  the  insistent 
Freddie  had  thrice  repeated  a  question. 

"  I  say,  will  you  have  a  cigaret  ?  "  half  shouted  Freddie, 
exasperated. 

"  Oh !  No,  thanks.  The  train  makes  such  a  beastly 
racket,  don't  you  know." 

"  They  told  me  at  the  Bristol  you  were  deaf,  but  — 
man,  I  'm  sorrv.  Which  ear  is  it  ?  " 


say, 


i   sorry. 
[56] 


The    Would-be    Brother-in-La-w 

"  The  one  next  to  you,"  replied  Brock,  recovering  from 
his  confusion.  "  I  hear  perfectly  well  with  the  other 
one." 

"Yes,"  drawled  Freddie,  with  a  wink,  "so  I've  ob 
served."  After  a  reflective  silence  the  young  man  ven 
tured  the  interesting  conclusion,  "  She 's  a  stunning  girl, 
all  right."  Brock  looked  polite  askance.  "  By  Jove,  I  'm 
glad  she  is  n't  my  sister-in-law." 

"  I  suppose  I  'm  expected  to  ask  why,"  frigidly. 

"  Certainly.  Because,  if  she  was,  I  couldn't.  Do  you 
get  the  point  ?  "  He  crossed  his  legs  and  looked  insupport- 
ably  sure  of  himself. 

They  reached  Munich  late  in  the  afternoon  and  went 
at  once  to  the  Hotel  Vier  Jahretzeiten,  where  they  were 
to  find  the  Odell-Carneys. 

Mr.  Odell-Carney  was  a  middle-aged  Englishman  of 
the  extremely  uninitiative  type.  He  was  tall  and  narrow 
and  distant,  far  beyond  what  is  commonly  accepted  as 
blase ;  indeed,  he  was  especially  slow  of  speech,  even  for 
an  Englishman,  quite  as  if  it  were  an  everlasting  question 
with  him  whether  it  was  worth  while  to  speak  at  all. 
One  had  the  feeling  when  listening  to  Mr.  Odell-Carney 
that  he  was  being  favoured  beyond  words  ;  it  took  him  so 
long  to  say  anything,  that,  if  one  were  but  moderately  bright, 
he  could  finish  the  sentence  mentally  some  little  time  in 
advance  of  the  speaker,  and  thus  be  prepared  to  properly 
appreciate  that  which  otherwise  might  have  puzzled  him 
considerably.  It  could  not  be  said,  however,  that  Mr. 
Odell-Carney  was  ponderous ;  he  was  merely  the  effectual 
result  of  delay.  Perhaps  it  is  safe  to  agree  with  those  who 
knew  him  best ;  they  maintained  that  Odell-Carney  was  a 


pose,  nothing  more. 


[57] 


Y/. 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

His  wife  was  quite  the  opposite  in  nearly  every  particular, 
except  height  and  angularity.  She  was  bony  and  red-faced 
and  opinionated.  A  few  sallow  years  with  a  rapid,  profli 
gate  nobleman  had  brought  her,  in  widowhood,  to  a  fine 
sense  of  appreciation  of  the  slow-going  though  tiresomely 
unpractical  men  of  the  Odell-Carney  type.  It  mattered 
little  that  he  made  poor  investment  of  the  money  she  had 
sequestered  from  his  lordship ;  he  had  kept  her  in  the  fore 
ground  by  associating  himself  with  every  big  venture  that 
interested  the  financial  smart  set.  Notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  he  never  was  known  to  have  any  money,  he  was 
looked  upon  as  a  financier  of  the  highest  order.  Which 
is  saying  a  great  deal  in  these  unfeeling  days  of  pounds  and 
shillings. 

Of  course  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  was  dressed  as  all  rangy, 
long-limbed  Englishwomen  are  prone  to  dress,  —  after  a 
model  peculiarly  not  her  own.  She  looked  ridiculously 
ungraceful  alongside  the  smart,  chic  American  women, 
and  yet  not  one  of  them  but  would  have  given  her  boots 
to  be  able  to  array  herself  as  one  of  these.  There  was  no 
denying  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  was  a  "  regular 
tip-topper,"  as  Mr.  Rodney  was  only  too  eager  to  say.  She 
had  the  air  of  a  born  leader  ;  that  is  to  say,  she  could  be  gra 
cious  when  occasion  demanded,  without  being  patronising. 

In  due  course  of  time  the  Medcrofts  and  Miss  Fowler 
were  presented  to  the  distinguished  couple.  This  function 
was  necessarily  delayed  until  Odell-Carney  had  time  to  go 
into  the  details  of  a  particularly  annoying  episode  of  the 
afternoon.  He  was  telling  the  story  to  his  friend  Rodney, 
and  of  course  everything  was  at  a  standstill  until  he  got 
through. 

It  seems  that  Mr.  Odell-Carney  felt  the  need  of  a  nap 

' 


The    Would-be    Brother-in-Law 

at  three  o'clock.  He  gave  strict  injunctions  that  there  was 
to  be  no  noise  in  the  halls  while  he  slept,  and  then  went 
into  his  room  and  stretched  out.  Anyone  who  has  stopped 
at  the  Hotel  Four  Seasons  will  have  no  difficulty  in  recall 
ing  the  electric  hall-bells  which  serve  to  attract  the  cham 
bermaids  to  given  spots.  If  one  needs  the  chambermaid, 
he  presses  the  button  in  his  room  and  a  little  bell  in  the 
hall  tinkles  furiously  until  she  responds  and  shuts  it  off. 
In  that  way  one  is  sure  that  she  has  heard  and  is  coming, 
a  most  admirable  bit  of  German  ingenuity.  If  she  hap 
pens  to  be  taking  her  lunch  at  the  time,  the  bell  goes  on 
ringing  until  she  returns ;  it  is  a  faithful  bell.  Coming 
back  to  Odell-Carney  :  the  maid  on  his  floor  was  making 
up  a  room  in  close  proximity  when  a  most  annoying  thing 
happened  to  her.  A  porter  who  had  reason  to  dislike  her 
came  along  and  turned  her  key  from  the  outside,  locking 
her  in  the  room.  She  could  n't  get  out,  and  she  had  been 
warned  against  making  a  sound  that  might  disturb  the  Eng 
lish  guest.  With  rare  intelligence,  she  did  not  scream  or 
make  an  outcry,  but  wisely  proceeded  to  press  the  button 
for  a  chambermaid.  Then  she  evidently  sat  down  to  wait. 
To  make  the  story  short,  she  rang  her  own  call-bell  for 
two  hours,  no  other  maid  condescending  to  notice  the  call, 
which  speaks  volumes  for  the  almost  martial  system  of  the 
hotel.  The  bell  was  opposite  the  narrator's  door.  Is  it, 
therefore,  surprising  that  he  required  a  great  deal  of  time  to 
tell  all  that  he  felt  ?  It  was  not  so  much  of  what  he  did 
that  he  spoke  at  such  great  length,  but  of  what  he  felt. 

u'Pon  me  soul,"  he  exploded  in  the  end,  twisting  his 
mustache  with  nervous  energy,  "  it  was  the  demdest  nap 
I  ever  had.  I  did  n't  close  my  eyes,  c'nfend  me  if  I 
did." 

[59] 


The   Husbands   of   Edith 

While  Odell-Carney  was  studiously  adjusting  his  eye 
glass  for  a  final  glare  at  an  unoffending  'bus  boy  who  almost 
dropped  his  tray  of  plates  in  consequence,  Mr.  Rodney 
fussily  intervened  and  introduced  the  Medcrofts.  Mrs. 
Odell-Carney  was  delightfully  gracious  ;  she  was  sure  that 
no  nicer  party  could  have  been  "  got  together."  Her  hus 
band  may  have  been  excessively  slow  in  most  things,  but 
he  was  quick  to  recognise  and  appreciate  feminine  beauty 
of  face  and  figure.  He  unbent  at  once  in  the  presence  of 
the  unmistakably  handsome  Fowler  sisters  ;  his  expressive 
"  chawmed  "  was  in  direct  contrast  to  his  ordinary  manner 
of  acknowledging  an  introduction. 

"  Mr.  Medcroft  is  the  famous  architect,  you  know," 
explained  the  anxious  Mrs.  Rodney. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  drawled  Mr.  Odell-Carney.  "  You 
American  architects  are  doing  great  things,  'pon  my  soul," 
he  added  luminously.  Brock  stuck  his  eyeglass  in  tighter 
and  hemmed  with  raucous  precision.  Mrs.  Medcroft  stif 
fened  perceptibly. 

"  Oh,  but  he  's  Mr.  Roxbury  Medcroft,  the  great  Eng 
lish  architect,"  cried  Mrs.  Rodney,  in  some  little  confusion. 
Odell-Carney  suddenly  remembered.  He  glared  hard  at 
Brock  ;  the  Rodneys  saw  signs  of  disaster. 

"  Oh,  by  Jove,  are  you  the  fellow  who  put  those  new 
windows  in  the  Chaucer  Memorial  Hall  ?  'Pon  me  soul  ! 
Are  you  the  man  who  did  that  ?  "  There  was  no  mistak 
ing  his  manner  ;  he  was  distinctly  annoyed. 

Brock  faced  the  storm  coolly,  for  his  friend  Medcroft's 
sake.  u  I  am  Roxbury  Medcroft,  if  that 's  what  you  mean, 
Mr.  Odell-Carney." 

"  I  know  you  're  Medcroft,  but,  hang  it  all,  wot  I  asked 
was,  did  you  design  those  windows?  'Gad,  sir,  they're 

[60] 


The    Would-be  Brother -in- Law 

the  laughing  sensation  of  the  age.  Where  the  devil  did 
you  get  such  ideas  —  eh,  wot?"  His  wife  had  calmly, 
diplomatically  intervened. 

"I  hate  that  man,"  said  Mrs.  Medcroft  to  her  supposed 
husband  a  few  minutes  later.  There  was  a  dangerous  red 
in  her  cheeks,  and  she  was  breathing  quickly.  Brock  gave 
an  embarrassed  laugh  and  mentioned  something  audibly 
about  a  "  stupid  ass." 

The  entire  party  left  on  the  following  day  for  Innsbruck, 
where  Mr.  Rodney  already  had  reserved  the  better  part  of 
a  whole  floor  for  himself  and  guests.  Mr.  Odell-Carney, 
before  they  left  Munich,  brought  himself  to  the  point  of 
apologising  to  Brock  for  his  peppery  remarks.  He  was 
sorry  and  all  that,  and  he  hoped  they'd  be  friends;  but  the 
windows  were  atrocious,  there  was  no  getting  around  that. 
His  wife  smoothed  it  over  with  Edith  by  confiding  to  her 
the  lamentable  truth  that  poor  Odell-Carney  had  n't  the 
remotest  idea  what  he  was  talking  about  half  of  the  time. 
After  carefully  looking  Edith  over  and  finding  her  valuably 
bright  and  attractive,  she  cordially  expressed  the  hope  that 
she  would  come  to  see  her  in  London. 

"We  must  know  each  other  better,  my  dear  Mrs.  Med 
croft,"  she  had  said  amiably.  Edith  thought  of  the  famous 
drawing-rooms  in  Mayfair  and  exulted  vastly.  "  And  Mr. 
Medcroft,  too.  I  am  so  interested  in  men  who  have  a 
craft.  They  always  are  worth  while,  really,  don't  you 
know.  How  like  an  American  Mr.  Medcroft  is.  I  dare 
say  he  gets  that  from  having  lived  so  long  with  an  Ameri 
can  wife.  And  what  a  darling  baby  !  She  's  wonderfully 
like  Mr.  Medcroft,  don't  you  think  ?  No  one  could  mis 
take  that  child's  father  —  never  !  And,  my  dear,"  leaning 
close  with  a  whimsical  air  of  confidence,  "  th 


more 


[61] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

can  be  said  of  certain  children  I  know  of  in  very  good 
families." 

Edith  may  have  gasped  and  looked  wildly  about  in  quest 
of  help,  but  her  agitation  went  unnoticed  by  the  new  friend. 
From  that  momentous  hour  Mrs.  Medcroft  encouraged 
an  inordinate  regard  for  the  circumspect.  She  decided 
that  it  was  best  never  to  be  alone  with  her  husband ;  the 
future  was  now  too  precious  to  go  unguarded  for  a  single 
moment  that  might  be  unexplainable  when  the  triumphal 
hour  of  revelation  came  to  hand.  She  impressed  this  fact 
upon  her  sister,  with  the  result  that  while  Brock  was  never 
alone  with  his  prudent  wife,  he  was  seldom  far  from  the 
side  of  the  adorable  lieutenant.  As  if  precociously  pro 
viding  for  an  ultimate  alibi,  the  fickle  Tootles  began  to 
show  unmistakable  signs  of  aversion  for  her  temporary 
parent.  Mrs.  Rodney,  being  an  old-fashioned  mother, 
could  not  reconcile  herself  to  this  unfilial  attitude,  and 
gravely  confided  to  her  husband  that  she  feared  Medcroft 
was  mistreating  his  child  behind  their  backs. 

"Well,  the  poodle  likes  him,  anyway,"  protested  Mr. 
Rodney,  who  liked  Brock  ;  "  and  if  a  dog  likes  a  man  he  's 
not  altogether  a  bad  lot.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  n't  spread 
the  report." 

"  Spread  it !  "  she  sniffed  indignantly.  "  Are  they  not 
my  own  cousins  ?  Twice  removed,"  she  concluded  as  an 
after-thought.  "  Do  you  imagine  that  7  would  spread  it  ? 
He  may  be  an  unnatural  father,  but  I  shall  not  be  the  one 
to  say  so.  Please  bear  that  in  mind,  Alfred." 

"Well,  let's  not  argue  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Rodney, 
departing  before  she  could  disobey  the  injunction. 

Of  course,  there  was  no  little  confusion  at  the  Hotel 
Tyrol  when  it  came  to  establishing  the  Medcrofts.  For 

[62] 


fH 


The    Would-be    Brother -in-Law 

a  while  it  looked  as  though  Brock  would  have  to  share  a 
room  with  Tootles,  relegating  Burton  to  an  alcove  and 
a  couch;  but  Constance,'  in  a  strictly  family  conclave,  was 
seized  by  an  inspiration  which  saved  the  day  —  or  the 
night,  more  properly  speaking. 

"  I  have  it,  Roxbury,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  dancing. 
"You  can  sleep  on  the  balcony.  A  great  many  invalids 
do,  you  know." 

"  But,  good  heaven,  I  'm  not  an  invalid,"  he  remon 
strated  feebly. 

"  Of  course,  you  're  not,  but  can't  you  say  you  are  ? 
It 's  quite  simple.  You  sleep  in  the  open  air  because  it 
does  your  lungs  so  much  good.  Oh,  I  know  !  It  is  n't 
necessary  to  expand  your  chest  like  that.  They  're  per 
fectly  sound,  I  daresay.  I  should  think  you  'd  rather  enjoy 
the  fresh  air.  Besides,  there  is  n't  a  room  to  be  had  in 
the  hotel." 

"  But  suppose  it  should  rain  !  "  he  protested,  knowing 
full  well  he  was  doomed. 

u  You  poor  boy,  have  n't  you  an  umbrella  ?  "  she  cried 
with  such  a  perfectly  entrancing  laugh  that  he  would  have 
slept  out  in  a  hailstorm  to  provide  recompense.  And  so  it 
was  settled  that  he  was  to  sleep  in  the  small  balcony  just 
off  the  baby's  luxurious  room,  the  hotel  people  agreeing  to 
place  a  cot  there  at  night  in  order  to  oblige  the  unfortunate 
guest  with  the  affected  lung. 

"  You  are  so  dear  and  so  agreeable,  Roxbury,"  purred 
Mrs.  Medcroft,  very  much  relieved.  "  If  ever  I  hear  of  a 
girl  looking  for  a  nice  husband,  I  '11  recommend  you." 

"  It 's  all  very  nice,"  said  he  with  a  wry  grin,  "but  I'm 
hanged  if  I  ought  to  be  expected  to  remember  all  of  my 
accomplishments."  They  were  sitting  in  her  room,  at- 

[63] 


The    Husbands   of   Edith 

tended  by  the  faithful  duenna,  Constance.  "  First,  the 
eyeglass ;  then  the  English  language,  with  which  I  find 
I  'm  most  unfamiliar;  then  a  deafness  in  one  of  my  ears  — 
I  can't  remember  which  until  it 's  too  late ;  and  now  I  'm 
to  be  a  tubercular.  You  've  no  idea  how  hard  it  is  for  me 
to  speak  English  against  Odell-Carney.  I  'm  an  out-and- 
out  amateur  beside  him.  And  it's  horribly  annoying  to 
have  Ulstervelt  shouting  in  my  ear  loud  enough  for  every 
body  in  the  dining-room  to  hear.  It 's  rich,  I  tell  you, 
and  if  I  did  n't  love  you  so  devotedly,  Edith,  I  'd  be  on  my 
way  at  this  very  instant.  There  !  I  feel  better.  4  On  my 
way '  is  the  first  American  line  I  've  had  in  the  farce  since 
we  left  Stuttgart.  By  the  way,  Edith,  I  'm  afraid  I  '11  have 
to  punch  Odell-Carney's  confounded  head  before  long. 
He  's  getting  to  be  so  friendly  to  me  as  Roxbury  Medcroft 
that  I  can't  endure  him  as  Brock." 

"I  —  I  don't  understand,"  murmured  Edith  plaintively. 
Constance  looked  up  with  a  new  interest  in  her  ever 
sprightly  face. 

"  Well,  you  see,  he  's  working  so  hard  to  square  himself 
with  Medcroft  for  the  break  he  made  about  the  windows, 
that  he's  taking  his  spite  out  on  all  American  architects. 
Confound  him,  he  persists  in  saying  I  'm  all  right,  but  God 
deliver  him  from  those  demmed  rotters,  the  American 
builders.  He  says  he  wouldn't  let  one  of  us  build  a  hen 
coop  for  him,  much  less  a  dog  kennel.  Oh,  I  say,  Connie, 
don't  laugh  !  How  would  you  like  it  if—  But  both  of 
them  were  laughing  at  him  so  merrily  that  he  joined  them 
at  once.  Burton  and  O'Brien,  who  had  come  in,  were 
smiling  discreetly. 

"  Come,  Roxbury,  what  do  you  say  to  a  good  long 
walk  ? "  cried  Constance.  "  I  must  talk  to  you  seriously 

[64] 


The    Would-be    Brother-in-Law 

about  a  great  many  things,  beginning  with  egotism."  He 
set  forth  with  alacrity,  rejoicing  in  spite  of  his  limitations. 

Upon  their  return  from  the  delightful  stroll  along  the 
mountain  side,  she  went  at  once  to  her  room  to  dress  for 
dinner.  Brock,  more  deeply  in  love  than  ever  before, 
lighted  a  cigar  and  seated  himself  in  the  gallery,  dubiously 
retrospective  in  his  meditations.  He  was  sorely  disturbed 
by  her  almost  constant  allusion  to  Freddie  Ulstervelt  and 
his  "  amazingly  attractive  ways."  Was  it  possible  that  she 
could  be  really  in  love  with  that  insignificant  little  whipper- 
snapper  ?  He  seemed  to  be  propounding  this  doleful 
question  to  the  lofty,  sphinx-like  Waldraster-Spitze,  loom 
ing  dark  in  the  path  of  the  south. 

"  Hello  !  "  exclaimed  a  voice  close  to  his  ear,  —  the  fresh, 
confident  voice  that  he  knew  so  well.  "  I  've  been  looking 
for  you  everywhere."  Freddie  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat 
down  at  his  "  good  side."  The  young  man  appeared  to 
have  something  weighty  on  his  mind.  Brock  shifted  un 
easily.  "  I  want  to  put  it  up  to  you,  Mr.  Medcroft,  as 
man  to  man.  You  are  Connie's  brother-in-law  and  you 
ought  to  be  able  to  set  me  straight." 

u  Ah,  I  see,"  said  Brock  vaguely. 

"  You  do  ?  "  queried  the  other,  surprise  and  doubt  in  his 
face. 

"No,  I  should  say  I  don't,  don't  you  see,"  substituted 
Brock. 

"  I  was  wondering  how  you  could  have  seen.  It 's  a 
matter  I  have  n't  discussed  with  anyone.  I  've  come  to 
have  a  liking  for  you,  Roxbury.  You  're  my  sort ;  you 
have  a  sort  of  New  York  feeling  about  you.  I  'm  sure 
you  're  enough  of  a  sport  to  give  me  unprejudiced  advice. 
Hands  across  the  sea,  see  ?  Well,  to  get  right  down  to  the 
5  [65] 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

point,  old  man,  —  you  '11  pardon  my  plain  speech,  —  I  think 
Constance  ought  to  marry  an  American." 

Brock  sat  up  very  straight.  "  I  think  that 's  —  that 's  a 
matter  for  Miss  Fowler  to  determine, "  he  said  coldly. 

"You  don't  quite  get  my  meaning,"  persisted  Freddie, 
crossing  his  legs  comfortably.  "I  was  trying  to  make  it 
easy  for  myself." 

"  You  mean,  you  think  she  ought  to  marry  you  ?  " 

"  That 's  it,  precisely.      How  clever  you  are." 

"  But  you  are  said  to  be  engaged  to  Miss  Rodney," 
ventured  Brock,  feeling  his  way. 

"  That 's  just  the  point,  Mr.  Medcroft.  We  're  not 
really  engaged  —  but  almost.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we've 
got  to  the  point  where  it 's  really  up  to  me  to  speak  to  her 
father  about  it,  don't  you  know.  Luckily,  I  have  n't." 

"  Luckily  ? " 

"  Yes.  That  would  have  committed  me,  don't  you  see. 
I  Ve  been  tentatively  engaged  more  than  a  dozen  times, 
but  never  quite  up  to  the  girl's  father.  Now,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  that  I  've  changed  my  mind  about  Kath- 
erine.  She 's  a  jolly  good  sort,  but  she 's  not  just  my  sort. 
I  thought  she  was,  but  —  well,  you  know  how  it  is  your 
self.  The  heart 's  a  damned  queer  organ.  Mine  has  gone 
back  to  Constance  in  the  last  two  days.  You  are  her 
brother-in-law,  and  you  're  a  good  fellow,  through  and 
through.  I  want  your  help.  I  've  got  money  to  burn,  and 
the  family  's  got  position  in  the  States.  I  can  take  care  of 
her  as  she  should  be  taken  care  of.  No  little  old  six-room 
flat  for  her.  But,  of  course,  you  understand,  I  can't  quite 
carry  the  thing  through  with  Katherine  still  feeling  herself 
attached,  as  it  were.  The  thing  to  decide  is  this :  how 
best  can  I  let  Katherine  down  easily  and  take  on  Connie 

[66] 


The    Would-be   Brother -in- Law 

without  putting  myself  in  a  rather  hazardous  position  ?  I  'm 
a  gentleman,  you  see,  and  I  can't  do  anything  downright 
rotten.  It  would  n't  do.  I  'm  sure,  in  her  heart,  Connie 
cares  for  me.  I  could  make  her  understand  me  better  if  I 
had  half  the  chance.  But  a  fellow  can't  get  near  her  now 
adays.  Don't  you  think  you  are  carrying  the  family  link 
too  far  ?  Now,  what  I  want  to  ask  of  you,  as  a  friend,  is 
this :  will  you  put  in  a  good  word  for  me  every  chance  you 
get  ?  I  '11  square  myself  with  Katherine  all  right.  Of 
course,  you  '11  understand,  I  don't  want  to  actually  break 
with  Katherine  until  I  'm  reasonably  sure  of  Constance. 
I  'm  a  guest  of  the  Rodney  family,  you  see.  It  would  be 
downright  indecent  of  me.  No,  sir  !  I  'm  not  that  sort. 
I  should  n't  think  of  ending  it  all  with  Katherine  so  long  as 
we  are  both  guests  of  her  father.  I  'd  wait  until  the  end  of 
next  week." 

Brock  had  listened  in  utter  amazement  to  the  opening 
portion  of  this  ingenuous  proposal.  As  the  flexile  youth 
progressed,  amazement  gave  place  to  indignation  and  then 
to  disgust.  Brock's  brow  grew  dark  ;  the  impulse  to  pull 
his  countryman's  nose  was  hard  to  overcome.  Never  in 
all  his  life  had  he  listened  to  such  a  frankly  cold-blooded 
argument  as  that  put  forth  by  the  insufferable  Knicker 
bocker.  In  the  end  the  big  New  Yorker  saw  only  the 
laughable  side  of  the  little  New  Yorker's  plight.  After  all, 
he  was  a  harmless  egoist,  from  whom  no  girl  could  expect 
much  in  the  way  of  recompense.  It  mattered  little  who 
the  girl  of  the  moment  might  be,  she  could  not  hope  to  or 
even  seek  to  hold  his  perambulatory  affections.  "  He  's  a 
single  example  of  a  great  New  York  class,"  reflected  Brock. 
"  The  futile,  priggish  rich  !  There  are  thousands  like  him 
in  my  dear  New  York  —  conscienceless,  invertebrate,  syb- 

[67] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

aritic  sons  of  idleness,  college-bred  and  under-bred  little 
beasts  who  can  buy  and  then  cast  off  at  their  pleasure. 
They  have  no  means  of  knowing  how  to  fall  in  love  with 
a  good  girl.  They  have  not  been  trained  to  it.  It  is  not 
for  their  scrambled  intellects  to  discriminate  between  the 
chorus-girl  brand  of  attack  and  the  subtle  wooing  of  a  gen 
tlewoman.  They  can't  analyse  —  they  can't  feel!  And 
this  insipid,  egotistical  little  bounder  is  actually  sitting 
there  and  asking  me  to  help  him  with  the  girl  I  love  ! 
Good  Lord,  what  next  ?  "  He  surveyed  the  eager  Ulster- 
velt  in  the  most  irritating  manner,  finally  laughing  outright 
in  his  face.  The  very  thought  of  him  as  Connie's  accepted 
lover !  She,  the  adorable,  the  splendid,  the  unapproachable  ! 
It  was  excruciatingly  funny  ! 

"  Oh,  I  say,  old  man,"  cried  Freddie,  when  the  discon 
certing  laugh  came,  "  don't  laugh  !  It 's  no  damned 
joke." 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  Ulstervelt,"  apologised  Brock,  with  a 
magnanimous  smile,  "  I  have  n't  said  it  was  a  joke. 
You  —  " 

"  Then,  what  are  you  laughing  at  r  Something  you 
heard  yesterday  ?  "  with  fine  scorn.  Brock  stared  hard  at 
the  flushed,  boyish  face  of  the  other ;  it  was  weak  and  yet 
as  hard  as  brass,  hard  with  the  overbearing  confidence  of 
the  spoiled  child  of  wealth. 

"  See  here,  Ulstervelt,"  he  said  with  sudden  coldness, 
"  you  're  asking  my  help.  That 's  no  way  to  get  it." 

"  I  beg  pardon  !  I  don't  mean  to  be  rude,"  apologised 
Freddie.  "  But,  I  say,  old  man,  I  '11  make  it  worth  your 
while.  My  father 's  got  stacks  of  coin,  and  he  's  a  power 
in  New  York.  Odell-Carney  's  right.  American  architects 
can't  design  good  hencoops.  What  we  want  in  New  York 

[68] 


The    Would-be   Brother-in-Law 

is  a  rattling  good,  up-to-date  Englishman  or  two  to  show 
'em  a  few  things.  They  're  a  lot  of  muckers  over  there, 
take  it  from  me.  By  Jove,  Roxbury,  you  don't  know  how 
I  'd  appreciate  your  friendship  in  this  matter.  It  will 
simplify  things  immensely.  You  '11  speak  a  good  word  for 
me  when  the  time  comes,  now,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  You  want  me  to  do  you  a  good  turn,"  said  Brock 
slowly.  He  found  himself  grinning  with  a  malicious  joy. 
"  All  right,  I  '11  see  to  it  that  Miss  Rodney  does  n't  marry 
you,  my  boy.  I  '11  attend  to  her." 

"Just  a  minute,"  interrupted  Freddie  quickly.  u  Don't  be 
too  hasty  about  that.  I  want  to  be  sure  of  Constance  first." 

"  I  see.  I  was  just  about  to  add  that  I  '11  give  Con 
stance  a  strong  hint  that  one  of  the  most  gallant  young 
sparks  in  New  York  is  likely  to  propose  to  her  before  the 
end  of  the  week.  That  will  — 

"Heavens!"  exclaimed  Freddie  in  disgust.  "You 
need  n't  do  that.  I  've  already  proposed  to  her  five  or 
six  times." 

"  And  she  —  she  is  undecided  ?  "  cried  Brock,  his  eyes 
darkening. 

"  No,  hang  it  all,  she  's  not  undecided.  She 's  said  no 
every  time.  That  's  why  I  'm  up  a  tree,  so  to  speak." 

"  Oh  ?  "  was  all  that  Brock  said.  Of  course  she 
could  n't  love  a  creature  of  Freddie's  stamp  !  He  gloated  ! 

"'Gad,  you're  a  lucky  dog,  Roxbury,"  went  on  Freddie 
enviously.  "  Money  is  n't  everything.  You  're  married  to 
one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  fascinating  women  in  the 
world.  She  's  a  wonder.  You  can't  blame  me  for  want 
ing  your  wife  as  a  sister-in-law.  Now,  can  you  ?  And 
that  kid  !  You  lucky  dog  !  " 

[69] 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    FRIENDS    OF    THE    FAMILY 

BROCK  discovered  in  due  time  that  he  was  living  in 
a  lofty  but  uncertain  place,  among  the  clouds  of 
exaltation.  It  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  suc 
ceeding  day  that  he  began  to  lower  himself  grudgingly  from 
the  height  to  which  Freddie's  ill-mannered  confession  had 
led  him.  By  that  time  he  satisfactorily  had  convinced 
himself  that  no  one  but  a  fool  could  have  suspected  Con 
stance  of  being  in  love  with  Ulstervelt ;  and  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  he  any  better  off  for  this  cheerful  argu 
ment  ?  There  was  nothing  to  prove  that  she  cared  for 
him,  notwithstanding  this  agreeable  conclusion  by  contrast. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  came  earthward  with  a  rush, 
weighted  down  by  the  conviction  that  she  did  not  care  a 
rap  for  him  except  as  a  conveniently  moral  brother-in-law. 
He  was  further  distressed  by  Edith's  comfortless,  though 
perhaps  well-qualified,  announcement  that  she  believed  her 
sister  to  be  in  love  ;  she  could  not  imagine  with  whom  ; 
she  only  knew  she  "  acted  as  if  she  were." 

"  Besides,  Roxbury,"  she  said  warningly,  "  it 's  a  most 

degenerate  husband  who  falls  in  love  with  his  wife's  sister." 

They  were  walking  in  one  of  the  mountain  paths,  some 

distance  behind  the  others.      They  did  not  know  that  Mrs. 

Odell-Carney  had  stopped  to  rest  in  the  leafy  niche  above 

[70] 


The   Friends   of   the   Family 

the  path.  She  was  lazily  fanning  herself  on  the  stone  seat 
that  man  had  provided  as  an  improvement  to  nature.  Be 
ing  a  sharp-eared  person  with  a  London  drawing-room 
instinct,  she  plainly  could  hear  what  they  were  saying  as 
they  approached.  These  were  the  first  words  she  fully 
grasped,  and  they  caused  her  to  prick  up  her  ears  : 

"  I  don't  give-  a  hang,  Edith.  I  'm  tired  of  being  her 
brother-in-law." 

"  You  're  tired  of  me,  Roxbury,  that 's  what  it  is,"  in 
plaintive  tones. 

"You  're  happy,  you  love  and  are  loved,  so  please  don't 
put  it  that  way.  It 's  not  fair.  Think  of  the  pitiable 
position  I  'm  in." 

"  My  dear  Roxbury,"  quite  severely,  "  if  there 's  nothing 
else  that  will  influence  you,  just  stop  to  consider  the  che-ild  ! 
There  's  Tootles,  dear  Tootles,  to  think  of." 

Of  course  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  could  not  be  expected  to 
know  that  Edith  was  blithely  jesting. 

"  My  dear  Edith,"  he  said,  just  as  firmly,  "  Tootles  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  You  know,  and  Constance 
knows,  and  I  know,  and  the  whole  world  will  soon  know 
that  1  'm  not  even  related  to  her,  poor  little  beggar.  I 
don't  see  why  she  should  come  between  me  and  happiness 
just  because  she  happens  to  bear  a  social  resemblance  to  a 
man  who  is  n't  her  father.  Come,  now,  let 's  talk  over  the 
situation  sensibly." 

Just  then  they  passed  beyond  the  hearing  of  the  astonished 
eavesdropper.  Good  heaven,  what  was  this  ?  Not  his 
child  ?  Two  minutes  later  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  was  back 
at  the  spring  where  they  had  left  her  somnolent  husband, 
who  had  refused  to  climb  a  hill  because  all  of  his  breath 
was  required  to  smoke  a  cigaret. 

[71] 


"  Carney,"  she  said  sternly,  her  lips  rigid,  her  eyes  set 
hard  upon  his  face,  "  how  long  have  the  Medcrofts  been 
married  ?  " 

He  blinked  heavily.  "  How  the  devil  should  I  know? 
Ton  me  word,  it 's  —  " 

w  Four  years,  I  think  Mrs.  Rodney  told  me.  How  old 
is  that  baby  ?  " 

"  'Pon  me  soul,  Agatha,  I  'm  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
you.  I  don't  know." 

"  A  little  over  a  year,  I  'd  say.  Well,  I  just  heard  Med- 
croft  say  that  she  was  n't  his  child.  Whose  is  it  ?  "  She 
stood  there  like  an  accusing  angel.  He  started  violently, 
and  his  jaw  dropped  ;  an  expression  of  alarmed  protest 
leaped  into  his  listless  eyes. 

"  'Pon  me  word,  Agatha,  how  the  devil  should  I  know  ? 
Don't  look  at  me  like  that.  Give  you  my  word  of  honour, 
I  don't  know  the  woman.  'Pon  me  soul,  I  don't,  my 
dear." 

He  was  very  much  in  earnest,  thoroughly  aroused  by 
what  seemed  to  be  a  direct  insinuation. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  stupid,"  she  cried.  "Good  heavens,  can 
there  be  a  scandal  in  that  lovely  woman's  life  ? " 

"There's  never  any  scandal  in  a  woman's  life  unless 
she 's  reasonably  lovely,"  remarked  he. 

"Whose  child  is  she,  if  she  isn't  Medcroft's  ? "  she 
pursued  with  a  perplexed  frown. 

"  Demme,  Agatha,  don't  ask  me,"  he  said  irritably, 
passing  his  hand  over  his  brow.  "  I  've  told  you  that 
twice.  Ask  them  ;  I  daresay  they  know." 

She  looked  at  him  in  disgust.  "  As  if  I  could  do  such  a 
thing  as  that !  Dear  me,  I  don't  understand  it  at  all.  Four 
years  married.  Yes,  I  'm  sure  that 's  it.  Carney,  you 

[72] 


The   Friends    of   the   Family 

don't  suppose  — "  She  hesitated.  It  was  not  necessary 
to  complete  the  obvious  question. 

"  Agatha,"  said  he,  weighing  his  remark  carefully, 
u  I  've  said  all  along  that  Medcroft  is  a  fool.  Take 
those  windows,  for  instance.  If  he  —  " 

"  Oh,  rubbish  !  What  have  the  windows  to  do  with  it  ? 
You  are  positively  stupid.  And  I  'd  come  to  like  her  too. 
Yes,  I  'd  even  asked  her  to  come  and  see  me."  She  was 
really  distressed. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Hang  it  all,  Agatha, 
it 's  nothing  unusual.  She  's  a  jolly  good  sort  and  a  sight 
too  good  for  Medcroft.  He  's  a  stupid  ass.  I  've  said  so 
all  along.  How  the  devil  she  ever  married  him,  I  can't 
see.  But,  by  Jove,  Agatha,  I  can  readily  see  how  she 
might  have  loved  the  father  of  this  child,  no  matter  who  he 

D 

is.  Take  my  advice,  my  dear,  and  don't  be  harsh  in  your 
judgment.  Don't  say  a  word  about  what  you  've  heard. 
If  they  are  reconciled  to  the  —  er — the  situation,  why  the 
devil  should  we  give  a  hang  ?  And,  above  all,  don't  let 
these  Rodneys  suspect."  Here  he  lowered  his  voice  grad 
ually.  "  They  're  a  pack  of  rotters  and  they  could  n't 
understand.  They  'd  cut  her,  even  if  she  is  a  cousin  or 
whatever  it  is.  I  've  give  a  year  or  two  of  my  life  to 
know  positively  whether  Rodney  intends  taking  those 
shares  or  not."  He  said  it  in  contemplative  delight  in 
what  he  would  do  if  it  were  definitely  settled.  "  I  can't 
stand  them  much  longer." 

"  What  great  variety  of  Americans  there  are,"  she  re 
flected.  "  Mrs.  Medcroft  and  her  sister  are  Americans. 
Compare  them  with  the  Rodneys  and  Mr.  Ulstervelt.  No, 
Carney,  I  '11  not  start  a  scandal.  The  Rodneys  would  not 
understand,  as  you  say.  They  'd  tear  her  to  shreds  and 

[73] 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

gloat  over  the  mutilation.  No ;  we  '11  have  her  to  see  us 
in  London.  I  like  her." 

"  And,  by  Jove,  Agatha,  I  like  her  sister." 

"  My  dear,  the  baby  is  a  darling." 

"  But  what  an  ass  Medcroft  is  !  " 

And  thus  is  it  proved  that  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  was  not 
only  a  dutiful  wife  in  taking  her  husband  into  her  confi 
dence,  but  also  that  jointly  they  enjoyed  a  peculiarly  rational 
outlook  upon  the  world  as  they  had  come  to  know  it  and  to 
feel  for  the  people  thereof.  It  is  of  small  consequence  that 
they  could  not  find  it  in  their  power  to  be  in  tune  with 
the  virtuous  Rodneys  :  the  Rodneys  were  conditions,  not 
effects. 

However  that  may  be,  it  was  Katherine  Rodney,  pretty, 
plump,  and  spoiled,  who  pulled  the  first  stone  from  the 
foundation  of  Medcroft's  house  of  cards.  Katherine  had 
convinced  herself  that  she  was  deeply  enamoured  of  the 
volatile  Freddie  ;  the  more  she  thought  that  she  loved  him, 
the  greater  became  the  conviction  that  he  did  not  care 
as  much  for  her  as  he  professed.  She  began  to  detect 
a  decided  falling  off  in  his  ardour ;  it  was  no  use  trying 
to  hide  the  fact  from  herself  that  Constance  was  the  most 
disturbing  symptom  in  evidence.  Jealousy  succeeded  spec 
ulation.  Katherine  decided  to  be  hateful ;  she  could  not 
have  helped  it  if  she  had  tried. 

It  was  very  evident,  to  her  at  least,  that  Freddie  was  not 
to  blame ;  he  was  being  led  on  by  the  artful  Miss  Fowler. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it  —  none  in  the  least,  de 
clared  Miss  Rodney  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  miserable 
reflections. 

Just  as  she  was  on  the  point  of  carrying  her  woes  to  her 
mother,  an  astounding  revelation  came  to  her  out  of  a  clear 

[74] 


\J 


"She  began  to  detedt  a  decided  falling  off  in  his  ardour." 


The    Friends    of   the    Family 

sky;  an  entirely  new  condition  came  into  the  problem.  It 
dawned  upon  her  suddenly,  without  warning,  that  Roxbury 
Medcroft  was  in  love  with  his  sister-in-law  ! 

When  she  burst  in  upon  her  mother,  half  an  hour  later, 
that  excellent  lady  started  up  from  her  couch,  alarmed  by 
the  excitement  in  her  daughter's  face.  Mrs.  Rodney,  good 
soul,  was  one  of  the  kind  who  always  think  the  world  is 
coming  to  an  end,  or  the  house  is  on  fire,  or  the  king  has 
been  assassinated,  if  any  one  approaches  with  a  look  of  dis 
tress  in  his  face. 

"  My  dear,  my  dear !  "  she  cried,  as  Katherine  stopped 
tragically  in  the  doorway.  "  What  has  happened  to  your 
father  ?  Speak  !  " 

u  Mamma,  it 's  worse  than  that  !      I  — 

"  Merciful  heaven  !  "  The  good  lady  blindly  reached  for 
her  smelling  salts. 

"  I  've  made  a  dreadful  discovery,"  went  on  Katherine 
in  suppressed  tones.  "  It  came  to  me  like  a  flash.  I 
could  n't  believe  my  own  brain.  So  I  watched  them  from 
my  window.  There  's  no  doubt  about  it,  mamma.  It 's 
as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face.  He — " 

"  My  darling,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?      Is  my  nose 
—  what  is  the  matter  with  my  nose  ?  "     She  vaguely  felt  of 
her  nose,  in  horror. 

"  He  's  in  love  with  her.  There  's  no  mistake.  And, 
will  you  believe  me,  mamma,  she  is  encouraging  him  !  Pos 
itively  !  Why  —  why,  it's  utterly  contemptible!  Oh, 
dear,  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rodney  looked  blankly  at  her  daughter,  who  had 
thrown  herself  in  a  chair.  She  gasped  and  then  gave  vent 
to  a  tremulous  squeak. 

"  In  love  !     Your  father  ?    With  whom  —  who  is  she  ?  " 
[75] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

u  Father  ?  Oh,  Lord,  mother,  I  did  n't  say  anything 
about  father.  Don't  cry  !  It 's  another  man  altogether." 

"  Not  Freddie  Ulstervelt  ?  "  quavered  Mrs.  Rodney,  pull 
ing  herself  together.  "  After  all  he  has  said  to  you  —  " 

"  No,  no,  mamma,"  cried  her  daughter  irritably.  "  Fred 
die  may  be  in  love  with  her,  but  he 's  not  the  only  one. 
Mamma !  "  She  straightened  up  and  looked  at  her  mother 
with  wide,  horror-struck  eyes,  "  Roxbury  Medcroft  is  madly 
in  love  with  Constance  Fowler !  " 

Mrs.  Rodney  did  not  utter  a  sound  for  fully  a  minute 
and  a  half.  She  never  took  her  eyes  from  her  daughter's 
distressed  face.  The  colour  was  coming  back  into  her  own, 
and  her  lips  were  setting  themselves  into  thin  red  lines 
above  her  rigid  chin. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  Katherine,  that  you  have  seen  it  too.  I 
have  suspected  it  for  several  days.  But  I  have  not  dared  to 
speak  —  it  seemed  too  improbable.  What  are  we  to  do  ?  " 
She  sat  down  suddenly,  even  weakly. 

"  She  's  not  only  leading  Freddie  on,  but  she  's  flirting 
with  her  own  brother-in-law  —  her  own  sister's  husband  — 
her  —  her  —  " 

"  Her  own  niece's  father  !     It 's  atrocious  !  " 

"  She 's  a  horrid  beast  !  And  I  thought  I  loved  her. 
Oh,  mamma,  it 's  just  dreadful :  '' 

"  Katherine,  control  yourself.  I  will  not  have  you  up 
setting  yourself  like  this.  You  Ml  have  another  of  those 
awful  headaches.  Leave  it  all  to  me,  dear.  Something 
must  be  done.  We  can't  stand  by  and  see  dear  Edith  be 
trayed.  She's  so  happy  and  so  trusting.  And,  besides  all 
that,  we'd  be  dragged  into  the  scandal.  I  —  " 

"  And  the  Odell-Carneys  too.      Heavens  !  " 

"  It  must  be  stopped  !  I  shall  go  at  once  to  Mrs.  Odell- 
[76] 


The    Friends    of   the    Family 

Carney  and  tell  her  what  we  have  discovered.  It  will  pre 
pare  her.  She  is  the  best  friend  I  have,  and  I  know  she  will 
suggest  a  way  to  put  a  stop  to  this  thing  before  it  is  too  late. 
We  must  —  " 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  to  father  about  it  first  ?  " 

"  Your  father  !  My  dear,  what  would  be  the  use  ?  He 
would  n't  believe  it.  He  never  does.  I  wonder  if  dear  Mrs. 
Odell-Carney  is  in  her  room."  The  estimable  lady  flut 
tered  loosely  toward  the  door.  Her  daughter  called  to  her. 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  'd  wait  a  day  or  two,  mamma."  She 
was  quite  cool  and  very  calculating  now.  "  It  may  adjust 
itself,  and  —  and  if  we  can  just  drop  a  hint  that  we  suspect, 
they  won't  be  so  —  so  —  well,  so  public  about  it.  I  know  — 
I  just  know  that  Freddie  will  be  disgusted  with  her  if  he  sees 
how  she's  carrying  on."  Katherine  suddenly  had  realised 
that  good  might  spring  from  evil,  after  all. 

In  the  mean  time,  young  Mr.  Ulstervelt  was  having 
troubles  and  disappointments  of  his  own.  Persistent  ef 
fort  to  make  love  to  Miss  Fowler  had  finally  resulted  in  an 
almost  peremptory  command  to  desist.  An  unlucky  im 
pulse  to  hold  her  hand  during  one  of  his  attempts  to  "  try 
her  out"  met  with  disaster.  Miss  Fowler  snatched  her 
hand  away  and,  with  a  look  he  never  forgot,  abruptly  left 
him.  "  It 's  all  ofF  with  her,"  ruminated  Freddie,  shivering 
slightly  as  an  after  effect  of  the  icy  stare  she  had  given  him. 
"  She 's  got  it  in  for  me,  for  some  reason  or  other.  Wow  ! 
That  was  a  frost  !  I  feel  it  yet.  Medcroft  has  played 
the  deuce  helping  me.  I  wonder  if —  Hello  !  There's 
Katherine." 

Freddie  did  some  rapid-fire  thinking  in  the  next  half- 
minute,  with  the  result  that  Constance  Fowler  was  ban 
ished  forever  from  his  calculations  and  Katherine  Rodney 

[77] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

restored  to  her  own.  So  long  as  he  could  not  possibly  win 
Constance  he  figured  that  he  might  just  as  well  devote  him 
self  to  the  girl  he  was  virtually  engaged  to  marry.  Freddie's 
was  a  convenient  and  adaptable  constancy.  Miss  Fowler 
out  of  sight  was  also  out  of  mind ;  he  descended  upon 
Katherine  with  all  of  the  old  ardour  shining  in  his  eyes. 
It  was  soon  after  Miss  Rodney's  conference  with  her 
mother,  and  the  young  lady  was  off  for  a  walk  in  the  town. 

"  Hello,  Katherine,"  called  he,  coming  up  from  behind. 
"  Shopping  ?  Take  me  along  to  carry  the  bundles.  I 
want  to  begin  now." 

It  was  Miss  Rodney's  fancy  to  receive  his  advances  with 
disdain.  She  assumed  a  most  unfriendly  manner. 

"  Indeed  ? "  with  chilling  irony.  "  And  why,  may  I 
ask  ? " 

Freddie  was  taken  aback.     This  was  most  unexpected. 

"  Practice  makes  perfect,"  he  said  glibly.  "  Don't  you 
want  me  to  carry  'em,  Kitty  ?  "  He  said  it  almost  tearfully. 

Katherine  exulted  inwardly.  Outwardly  she  was  very 
cool  and  very  baffling.  "  Please  don't  call  me  Kitty.  I 
hate  it." 

"  It 's  a  dear  little  name.  That 's  what  I  'm  going  to  call 
you  when  we  are  —  well,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  know.     What  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Oh,    come    now,  Miss    Rodney.      Don't    be    so    icy. 


What's   up?      Never    mind 


don't    tell    me.      I    know. 
It  was  a  bold  stroke  and  it 


You  're  jealous  of  Connie." 
had  an  immediate  effect. 

"Jealous  !  she  scoffed,  but  her  cheeks  went  red.     "  Not 
I,  Freddie."     She  considered  for  a  second  and  then  went 
"  She  's  not  in  love  with  you.     You  must  be  blind. 


on 


She's  crazy  about  Mr.  Medcroft." 

[78] 


'H 


The   Friends   of   the   Family 

"  By  Jove,"  exclaimed  Freddie,  stopping  short,  his  eyes 
bulging.  He  looked  at  her  for  a  minute  in  silence,  realisation 
sifting  into  his  face.  u  You  're  right !  She  is  in  love  with 
him.  I  see  it  now.  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that ! 
Her  brother-in-law !  " 

"  And  he  is  in  love  with  her  too.  Now  you  may  go 
back  to  her  and  see  if  you  can't  win  her  away  from  him. 
I  shan't  interfere,  my  dear  Freddie.  Don't  have  me  on 
your  conscience.  Good-by." 

She  left  him  standing  there  in  the  street.  With  well- 
practised  tact  he  darted  into  a  tobacconist's  shop. 

"  Another  shake-down,"  he  reflected  ruefully.  "  They're 
all  passing  me  up  to-day.  But,  great  hooks,  what 's  all 
this  about  Medcroft  and  Constance  ?  "  He  bought  some 
cigarets  and  started  off  for  a  walk,  mildly  excited  by  this 
new  turn  of  affairs.  It  occurred  to  him,  as  he  turned  it 
all  over  in  his  mind,  that  Mrs.  Medcroft  was  amazingly 
resigned  to  the  situation.  Of  course,  she  was  not  blind  to 
her  husband's  infatuation  for  her  sister.  Therefore,  if  she 
were  so  cheerful  and  indifferent  about  it,  it  followed  that 
she  was  not  especially  distressed ;  in  fact,  it  suddenly 
dawned  upon  him  she  was  not  only  reconciled  but  relieved. 
She  had  ceased  to  love  her  husband  !  She  could  be  a  free 
lance  in  Love's  lists,  notwithstanding  the  inconvenience 
of  a  legal  attachment.  "  She 's  ripping,  too,"  concluded 
Freddie,  with  a  certain  buoyancy  of  spirit.  "  If  she 
does  n't  love  Medcroft,  she  at  least  ought  to  love  someone 
else  instead.  It's  customary.  I  wonder—  Here  he  re 
flected  deeply  for  an  instant,  his  spirits  floating  high. 
Then  he  turned  abruptly  and  made  his  way  to  the  Tirol.  * 

It  came  to  pass,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  that 
Mr.  Ulstervelt,  supremely  confident  from  the  effect  of  past 

[79] 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

achievements,  drew  the  unsuspecting  Mrs.  Medcroft  into 
a  secluded  tete-a-tete.  It  is  not  of  record  that  he  was  ever 
a  diplomatic  wooer;  one  in  haste  never  is.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  Mrs.  Medcroft,  her  cheeks  flaming,  her  eyes  wide 
with  indignation,  suddenly  left  the  side  of  the  indomitable 
Freddie  and  joined  the  party  at  the  other  end  of  the  entre 
sol,  but  not  before  she  had  said  to  him  with  unmistakable 
clearness  and  decision,  — 

"  You  little  wretch !  How  dare  you  say  such  silly 
things  to  me  !  " 

The  rebuff  decisive !  And  he  had  only  meant  to  be 
comforting,  not  to  say  self-sacrificing.  He  'd  be  hanged 
if  he  could  understand  women  nowadays.  Not  these 
women,  at  least.  In  high  dudgeon  he  stalked  from  the 
room.  In  the  door  he  met  Brock. 

"  For  two  cents,"  he  declared  savagely,  as  if  Brock  were 
to  blame,  "  I  'd  take  the  next  train  for  Paris." 

Brock  watched  him  down  the  hall.  He  drew  a  hand 
ful  of  small  coins  from  his  pocket,  ruefully  looking  them 
over.  "  Two  cents,"  he  said.  "  Hang  it  all,  I  've  nothing 
here  but  pfennigs  and  hellers  and  centimes." 

In  the  course  of  his  wanderings  the  disconsolate  Freddie 
came  upon  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  and  pudgy  Mr.  Rodney. 
They  were  sitting  in  a  quiet  corner  of  the  reading-room. 
Mr.  Rodney  had  had  a  hard  day.  He  had  climbed  a 
mountain  —  or,  more  accurately  speaking,  he  had  climbed 
half-way  up  and  then  the  same  half  down.  He  was  very 
tired.  Freddie  observed  from  his  lonely  station  that 
Mr.  Rodney  was  fast  dropping  to  sleep,  notwithstanding 
his  companion's  rapid  flow  of  small  talk.  It  did  not  take 
Freddie  long  to  decide.  He  was  an  outcast  and  a  pariah 
and  he  was  very  lonely.  He  must  have  someone  to  talk 

[80] 


The    Friends    of   the    Family 

to.  Without  more  ado  he  bore  down  upon  the  couple, 
and  a  moment  later  was  tactfully  advising  the  sleepy 
Mr.  Rodney  to  take  himself  off  to  bed,  —  advice  which  that 
gentleman  gladly  accepted.  And  so  it  came  about  that 
Freddie  sat  face  to  face  with  the  last  resort,  at  the  foot  of 
the  chaise-longue,  gazing  with  serene  adulation  into  the  eyes 
of  a  woman  who  might  have  had  a  son  as  old  as  he  —  if 
she  had  had  one  at  all.  She  had  been  a  coquette  in  her 
salad  days  ;  there  was  no  doubt  of  it.  She  had  encountered 
fervid  gallants  in  all  parts  of  the  world  and  in  all  stations 
of  life.  But  it  remained  for  the  gallant  Freddie  Ulstervelt 
to  bowl  her  over  with  surprise  for  the  first  time  in  her  long 
and  varied  career.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  pulled 
herself  together  and  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  with  her 
fan,  a  quizzical  smile  on  her  lips. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ulstervelt,  are  you  trying  to  make  love 
to  me  ?  You  nice  Americans  !  How  gallant  you  can  be. 
I  am  quite  old  enough  to  be  your  mother.  Believe  me,  I 
thank  you  for  the  compliment.  1  can't  tell  you  how  I 
appreciate  this  delicate  flattery.  You  are  very  delicious. 
But,"  as  she  arose  graciously,  "  I  'd  follow  Mr.  Rodney's 
example  if  I  were  you.  I  'd  go  to  bed."  Then,  with  a 
rare  smile  which  could  not  have  been  more  chilling,  she 
left  him  standing  there. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  muttered,  passing  his  hand  across  his 
eyes,  as  if  bewildered,  "what  was  I  saying  to  her?  Good 
Lord,  has  it  got  to  be  a  habit  with  me  ?  Was  I  making 
love  to  —  her  ?  "  He  departed  for  the  American  bar. 

Mrs.  Rodney  had  but  little  sleep  that  night.      She  went 

to  bed   in  a  state  of  worry  and  uncertainty,  oppressed   by 

the  shadows  which   threatened  eternal  darkness  to  the  fair 

name  of  the  family  —  however  distantly  removed.      Kath- 

6  [81] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

erine's  secret  had  in  reality  been  news  to  her;  she  had  not 
paid  enough  attention  to  the  Medcrofts  to  notice  anything 
that  they  did,  so  long  as  they  did  not  do  it  in  conjunction 
with  the  Odell-Carneys.  The  Odell-Carneys  were  her 
horizon,  —  morning,  noon,  and  night.  And  now  there  was 
likelihood  of  that  glorious  horizon  being  obscured  by  a 
sickening  scandal  in  the  vulgar  foreground.  Inspired  by 
{Catherine's  dreadful  conclusions,  the  excellent  lady  set 
about  to  observe  for  herself.  During  the  entire  evening 
she  flitted  about  the  hotel  and  grounds  with  all  the  snoop 
ing  instincts  of  a  Sherlock  Holmes.  She  lurked,  if  that  is 
not  putting  it  too  theatrically.  From  unexpected  nooks 
she  emerged  to  view  the  landscape  o'er;  by  devious  paths 
she  led  her  doubts  to  the  gates  of  absolute  certainty,  and 
then  sat  down  to  shudder  to  her  heart's  content.  It  was 
all  true  !  For  four  hours  she  had  been  trying  to  get  to  the 
spot  where  she  could  see  with  her  own  eyes,  and  at  last 
she  had  come  to  it.  Of  course,  she  had  to  admit  to  herself 
that  she  did  not  actually  hear  Mr.  Medcroft  tell  Constance 
that  he  loved  her,  but  it  was  enough  for  her  that  he  sat 
with  her  in  the  semi-darkness  for  two  unbroken  hours, 
speaking  in  tones  so  low  that  they  might  just  as  well  have 
been  whispering  so  far  as  her  taut  ears  were  concerned. 

Moreover,  other  persons  than  herself  had  smilingly 
nudged  each  other  and  referred  to  the  couple  as  lovers ; 
no  one  seemed  to  doubt  it  —  nor  to  resent  it,  which  is 
proof  that  the  world  loves  a  lover  when  it  recognises  him 
as  one. 

Mrs.  Rodney  also  discovered  that  Mrs.  Medcroft  went 
to  her  room  at  nine  o'clock,  at  least  three  hours  before 
the  subdued  tete-a-tete  came  to  an  end.  The  poor  thing 
doubtless  was  crying  her  eyes  out,  decided  Mrs.  Rodney. 

[82] 


The   Friends    of   the   Family 

And  now,  after  all  this,  is  it  to  be  considered  surprising 
that  the  distressed  mother  of  Katherine  did  not  sleep  well 
that  night  ?  Nor  should  her  wakefulness  be  laid  at  the 
door  of  the  tired  Mr.  Rodney,  who  was  ever  a  firm  and 
stentorian  sleeper. 

Morning  came,  and  with  it  a  horseback  ride  for  Brock 
and  Miss  Fowler.  That  was  enough  for  Mrs.  Rodney ; 
she  would  hold  in  no  longer.  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  must 
be  told ;  she,  at  least,  must  have  the  chance  to  escape  be 
fore  the  storm  of  scandal  broke  to  muddy  her  immaculate 
skirts.  Forthwith  the  considerate  hostess  appeared  before 
her  guest  with  a  headful  of  disclosures.  She  had  decided 
in  advance  that  it  would  not  do  to  beat  about  the  bush,  so 
to  speak ;  she  would  come  directly  to  the  obnoxious  point. 

They  were  in  Mrs.  Odell-Carney's  sitting-room.  Mr. 
Odell-Carney  was  smoking  a  cigaret  on  the  balcony,  just 
outside  the  window.  Mrs.  Rodney  did  not  know  that  he 
was  there.  It  is  only  natural  that  he  held  himself  inhos 
pitably  aloof:  Mrs.  Rodney  bored  him  to  death.  He  did 
not  hear  all  that  was  poured  out  between  them,  but  he 
heard  quite  enough  to  cause  him  something  of  a  pang.  He 
distinctly  heard  his  wife  say  things  to  Mrs.  Rodney  that 
she  had  solemnly  avowed  she  would  not  say,  —  things  about 
the  Medcroft  baby. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  refused 
to  be  surprised  by  the  disclosures.  She  calmly  admitted 
that  she  had  suspected  Medcroft  of  being  too  fond  of  his 
sister-in-law,  but,  she  went  on  cheerfully,  why  not  ?  His 
wife  did  n't  care  a  rap  for  him  —  she  said  rap  and  nothing 
else ;  Mrs.  Medcroft  had  an  affair  of  her  own,  dear  child ; 
she  was  not  so  slow  as  Mrs.  Rodney  thought,  oh,  no. 
Mrs.  Odell-Carney  warmed  up  considerably  in  defending 

[83] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

the  not-to-be-pitied  Edith.  She  said  she  had  liked  her  from 
the  beginning,  and  more  than  ever,  now  that  she  had  really 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  her  husband  was  the  kind 
who  sets  his  wife  an  example  by  being  a  bit  divaricating 
himself. 

Mrs.  Rodney  fairly  screeched  with  horror  when  she  heard 
that  Tootles  was  "  a  poor  little  beggar,"  and  "  all  that  sort 
of  thing,  you  know." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Odell-Carney,  hating  herself  all 
the  time  for  engaging  in  the  spread  of  gossip,  but  femininely 
unable  to  withstand  the  test,  "your  excellent  cousin,  Mrs. 
Medcroft,  receives  two  letters  a  day  from  London,  —  great, 
fat  letters  which  take  fifteen  minutes  to  read  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  they  are  written  in  a  perfectly  huge  hand  by  a 
man  —  a  man,  d'  ye  hear  ?  They  're  not  from  her  husband. 
He's  here.  He  cannot  have  written  them  in  London, 
don't  you  see  ?  He  — 

"  I  see,"  inserted  Mrs.  Rodney,  who  was  afraid  that 
Mrs.  Odell-Carney  might  think  she  did  n't  see. 

"  Mind  you,  Mrs.  Rodney,  I  'm  terribly  cut  up  about  all 
this.  She  has  — 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  would  be,"  mourned  Mrs.  Rodney, 
her  heart  in  her  boots.  "  You  must  just  hate  me  for  ex 
posing  you  to  — 

"  Rubbish  !  "  scoffed  the  other.  "  It  is  n't  that.  I  've 
been  through  a  dozen  affairs  in  which  my  best  friends  were 
frightfully  —  er  —  complicated.  I  meant  to  say  that  I'm 
terribly  cut  up  over  poor  Mrs.  Medcroft.  She  's  a  dear. 
Believe  me,  she  's  a  most  delicious  sinner.  Even  Carney 
says  that,  and  he's  very  fastidious  —  and  very  loyal." 

'They  are  married  in  name  only,"  said  Mrs.  Rodney, 
beginning  to  sniffle.  She  looked  up  and  smiled  wanly 

[84] 


The    Friends    of   the    Family 

through  her  tears.  "You  know  what  I  mean.  My  gram 
mar  is  terrible  when  I  'm  nervous."  She  pulled  at  her 
handkerchief  for  a  wavering  moment.  "  Do  you  think 
I  'd  better  speak  to  Edith  ?  We  may  be  able  to  prevent 
the  divorce." 

"  Divorce,  my  dear,"  gasped  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  in 
credulously. 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Odell-Carney  emerged  from  his 
shell,  so  to  speak.  He  stalked  through  the  window  and 
confronted  the  two  ladies,  one  of  whom,  at  least,  was  vastly 
dismayed  by  his  sudden  appearance. 

"  Now,  see  here,"  he  began  without  preliminary  apology, 
"  I  won't  hear  of  a  divorce.  That 's  all  rubbish  —  perfect 
rot,  'pon  my  soul.  Wot 's  the  use  ?  Hang  it  all,  Mrs. 
Rodney,  wot 's  the  odds,  so  long  as  all  parties  are  contented  ? 
We  can  stand  it,  by  Jove,  if  they  can,  don't  you  know. 
We  can't  regulate  the  love  affairs  of  the  universe.  Besides, 
I  'm  not  going  to  stand  by  and  see  a  friend  dragged  into  a 
thing  of  this  sort  —  " 

"  A  friend,  Carney,"  exclaimed  his  wife. 

"  Well,  it 's  possible,  my  dear,  that  he  may  be  a  friend. 
I  know  so  many  chaps  in  London  who  might  be  doing  this 
sort  of  thing,  don't  you  know.  Who  knows  but  the  chap 
who 's  writing  her  these  letters  may  be  one  of  my  best 
friends  ?  It  does  n't  pay  to  take  a  chance  on  it.  I  won't 
hear  to  it.  If  Medcroft  knows  and  his  wife  knows  and 
Miss  Fowler  knows,  why  the  deuce  should  we  bother  our 
heads  about  it  ?  Last  night  I  heard  the  Medcroft  infant 
bawling  its  lungs  out  —  teething,  I  daresay  —  but  did  I  go 
in  and  take  a  hand  in  straightening  out  the  poor  little  beggar  ? 
Not  I.  By  the  same  token,  why  should  I  or  anybody  else 
presume  to  step  in  and  try  to  straighten  out  the  troubles 

[851 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

of  its  parents  ?  It 's  useless  interference,  either  way  you 
take  it." 

UI  think  it's  all  very  entertaining  and  diverting,"  said 
Mrs.  Odell-Carney  carelessly.  She  yawned. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  "  asked  the  doubting  Mrs. 
Rodney.  "  I  was  so  afraid  you  'd  mind.  Your  position 
in  society,  my  dear  Mrs.  — 

"  My  position  in  society,  Mrs.  Rodney,  can  weather 
the  tempest  you  predict,"  said  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  with  a 
smile  that  went  to  Mrs.  Rodney's  marrow. 

"Oh,  if — if  you  really  don't  mind—  "  she  mumbled 
apologetically. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  madam,"  remarked  Odell-Carney, 
carefully  adjusting  his  eyeglass.  "  It 's  quite  immaterial,  I 
assure  you." 


[86] 


fH 


CHAPTER   VI 

OTHER    RELATIONS 

IT  is  but  natural  to  presume,  after  the  foregoing,  that 
the  affairs  of  the  Medcrofts  were  under  close  and  care 
ful  scrutiny  from  that  confidential  hour.  The  Odell- 
Carneys  were  conspicuously  nice  and  agreeable  to  the 
Medcrofts  and  Miss  Fowler.  It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that 
Mr.  Odell-Carney  went  considerably  out  of  his  way  to  be 
agreeable  to  Mrs.  Medcroft ;  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  she 
made  it  a  point  to  have  someone  else  with  her  whenever 
she  seemed  likely  to  be  left  alone  with  him.  The  Rodneys 
struggled  bravely  and  no  doubt  conscientiously  to  emulate 
the  example  set  by  the  Odell-Carneys,  but  it  was  hardly  to 
be  expected  that  they  could  see  new  things  through  old- 
world  eyes.  They  grew  very  stiff  and  ceremonious,  —  that 
is,  the  Rodney  ladies  did.  It  was  their  prerogative,  of 
course  :  were  they  not  cousins  of  the  diseased  ? 

Four  or  five  days  of  uneasy  pretence  passed  with  a  swift 
ness  that  irritated  certain  members  of  the  party  and  a  slow 
ness  that  distressed  the  others.  Days  never  were  so  short 
as  those  which  the  now  recklessly  infatuated  Brock  was 
spending.  He  was  valiantly  earning  his  way  into  the  heart 
of  Constance, —  a  process  that  tried  his  patience  exceedingly, 
for  she  was  blithely  unimpressionable,  if  one  were  to  judge 
by  the  calmness  with  which  she  fended  off  the  inevitable 

[87] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

though  tardy  assault.  She  kept  him  at  arm's  length ; 
appearances  demanded  a  discreetness,  no  matter  how  she 
may  secretly  have  felt  toward  the  good-looking  husband  of 
her  sister.  To  say  that  she  was  enjoying  herself  would  be 
putting  it  much  too  tamely  ;  she  was  revelling  in  the  fun  of 
the  thing.  It  mattered  little  to  her  that  people  —  her  own 
cousins  in  particular — were  looking  upon  her  with  cold 
and  critical  eyes  ;  she  knew,  down  in  her  heart,  that  she 
could  throw  a  bomb  among  them  at  any  time  by  the  mere 
utterance  of  a  single  word.  It  mattered  as  little  that  Edith 
was  beginning  to  chafe  miserably  under  the  strain  of  wait 
ing  and  deception  ;  the  novelty  had  worn  off  for  the  wife 
of  Roxbury  ;  she  was  despairingly  in  love,  and  she  was  pin 
ing  for  the  day  to  come  when  she  could  laugh  again  with 
real  instead  of  simulated  joyousness. 

"  Connie,  dear,"  she  would  lament  a  dozen  times  a  day, 
"  it 's  growing  unbearable.  Oh,  how  I  wish  the  three 
weeks  were  ended.  Then  I  could  have  my  Roxbury,  and 
you  could  have  my  other  Roxbury,  and  everybody  would  n't 
be  pitying  me  and  cavilling  at  you  because  I  'm  unhappily 
married." 

"  Why  do  you  say  I  could  have  your  other  Roxbury  ? " 
demanded  her  sister  on  one  occasion.  "  You  forget  that 
father  expects  me  to  marry  the  viscount.  I  — 

"  You  are  so  tiresome,  Connie.  Don't  worry  me  with 
your  love  affairs  —  I  don't  want  to  hear  them.  There  's 
Mr.  Brock  waiting  for  you  in  the  garden." 

"  I  know  it,  my  dear.  He  's  been  waiting  for  an  hour. 
I  think  it  is  good  for  him  to  wait,"  said  the  other,  with  airy 
confidence.  "  What  does  Roxy  say  in  his  letter  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  He  says  it  will  all  be  over  in  a  day  or  two.  Dear  me, 
[88] 


Other   Relations 

how  I  wish  it  were  over  now  !  I  can't  endure  Cousin 
Mary's  snippishness  much  longer,  and  as  for  Katherine ! 
My  dear,  I  hate  that  girl !  " 

"  She  's  been  very  nice  lately,  Edith  —  ever  since  Freddie 
dropped  me  so  completely.  By  the  way,  Burton  was  telling 
me  to-day  that  Odell-Carney  had  been  asking  her  some  very 
curious  and  staggering  questions  about  Tootles  and  your 
most  private  affairs." 

"  I  know,  my  dear,"  groaned  Edith.  "  He  very  politely 
remarked  to  me  last  night  that  Tootles  made  him  think 
very  strangely  of  a  friend  of  his  in  London.  He  would  n't 
mention  the  fellow's  name.  He  only  smiled  and  said, c  Nevah 
mind,  my  dear,  he  's  a  c'nfended  handsome  dog.'  I  daresay 
he  meant  that  as  a  compliment  for  Tootles.  She  is  pretty, 
don't  you  think  so,  dear?  " 

"  She  's  just  like  you,  Edith,"  said  Constance,  who  under 
stood  things  quite  clearly. 

"  Then,  in  heaven's  name,  Connie,  why  are  they  staring 
at  her  so  impolitely  —  all  of  them  ?  " 

"  It 's  because  she  is  so  pretty.  Goodness,  Edith,  don't 
let  every  little  thing  worry  you.  You  11  have  wrinkles 
and  grey  hairs  soon  enough." 

"  It 's  all  very  nice  for  you  to  talk,"  grumbled  Edith. 
"  I  'm  going  mad  with  loneliness.  You  have  a  lover  near 
you  all  the  time  —  he  's  mad  about  you.  What  have  I  ? 
I  'm  utterly  alone.  No  one  loves  me  —  no,  not  a  soul  — 

"  You  won't  let  them  love  you,  Edith,"  said  Constance 
jauntily.  "They  all  want  to  love  you  —  all  of  them." 

"  I  hate  men,"  announced  Mrs.  Medcroft,  retrospec 
tively. 

Developments  of  a  most  refractory  character  swooped 
down  upon  them  at  the  very  end  of  the  sojourn  in  Inns- 

[89] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

bruck.  Every  one  had  begun  to  rejoice  in  the  fact  that 
the  fortnight  was  almost  over,  and  that  they  could  go  their 
different  ways  without  having  anything  really  regrettable  to 
carry  away  with  them.  The  Rodneys  were  going  to  Paris, 
the  Medcrofts  to  London,  the  Odell-Carneys  (after  find 
ing  out  where  the  others  were  bent)  to  Ostend.  Freddie 
Ulstervelt  suddenly  announced  his  determination  to  remain 
at  the  Tirol  for  a  week  or  two  longer.  That  very  day  he 
had  been  introduced  to  a  Mademoiselle  Le  Brun,  a  fas 
cinating  young  Parisian,  stopping  at  the  Tirol  with  her 
mother. 

All  might  have  ended  well  had  it  not  been  for  the  unfor 
tunate  circumstance  of  Odell-Carney's  making  a  purchase 
of  the  London  Standard  instead  of  the  Times,  as  was  his 
custom.  His  lamentations  over  this  piece  of  stupidity  were 
cut  short  by  the  discovery  of  an  astonishing  article  upon  the 
editorial  page  of  the  paper  —  an  article  which  created 
within  him  a  sense  of  grave  perplexity.  He  read  the  head 
lines  thrice  and  glanced  through  the  text  twice,  neither 
time  with  any  very  definite  idea  of  what  he  was  read 
ing.  His  fingers  shook  as  he  held  the  sheet  nearer  the 
window  for  a  final  effort  to  untangle  the  incredible  thing 
that  lay  before  him  in  simple,  unimpeachable  black  and 
white. 

"  'Pon  me  word,"  he  kept  repeating  to  himself  feebly. 
Then  he  got  up  and  went  off  in  extreme  haste  to  find  his 
wife. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said  to  her  in  the  carriage-way,  "  I  must 
speak  with  you  alone."  She  was  just  starting  off  for  a  drive 
with  Mrs.  Rodney. 

"  Bad  news,  Carney  ?  "  she  demanded,  struck  by  bis  ex 
pression.  She  was  following  him  toward  a  remote  corner  of 

[90] 


Other   Relations 

the  approach.      He  did   not  reply  until  they  were  seated, 
much  nearer  to  each  other  than  was  their  wont. 

u  Read  that,"  he  said,  slipping  the  Standard  into  her  hands. 
"  Wot  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Carney,  I  don't  know.  Would  you  mind 
telling  me  what  I  am  to  read  ?  " 

"  The  Medcroft  thing.     Right  there." 

She  read  the  article,  her  husband  watching  her  face  the 
while.  Surprise,  incredulity,  dismay,  succeeded  each  other 
in  rapid  changes.  She  was  reading  in  sheer  amazement  of 
the  doings  of  Roxbury  Medcroft  in  connection  with  the 
County  Council's  sub-committee  —  in  London!  The  story 
went  on  to  relate  how  Medcroft,  implacable  leader  of  the 
opposition  to  the  "  grafters,"  suddenly  had  appeared  before 
the  committee  with  the  most  astounding  figures  and  facts  to 
support  his  charges  of  rottenness  on  the  part  of  the  "  clique  "  ; 
his  unexpected  descent  upon  the  scene  had  thrown  the  op 
posing  leaders  into  a  panic ;  every  one  had  been  led  to  be 
lieve  that  he  was  sojourning  in  the  east.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  was  soon  revealed,  he  had  been  in  London,  secretly 
working  on  the  problem,  for  nearly  three  weeks,  keeping 
discreetly  under  cover  in  order  that  his  influence  might  not 
be  thwarted.  His  array  of  facts,  his  bitter  arraignment  of 
the  men  who  were  trying  to  force  the  building  bill  through  the 
Council,  staggered  the  whole  city  of  London.  At  that 
writing  it  looked  as  though  the  bill  would  be  overthrown, 
its  promoters  had  been  so  completely  put  to  rout.  The 
committee  would  be  compelled  to  take  cognisance  of  the 
startling  exposure  —  the  people  would  demand  a  full  thresh 
ing  out  of  the  obnoxious  deal.  Roxbury  Medcroft's  name 
was  on  every  one's  lips.  The  Standard  had  profited  by 
securing  a  great  "beat." 

[91] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

The  Odell-Carneys  looked  at  each  other  in  wonder  and 
perplexity.  "  What  does  it  mean  ? "  asked  the  lady,  her 
eyes  narrowing. 

"  Look  here,  Agatha,  this  paper 's  at  least  two  days  old. 
Now,  how  the  devil  can  Medcroft  be  in  London  and  Inns 
bruck  at  the  same  time.  He  was  here  day  before  yesterday, 
wasn't  he?  I'm  so  c'nfended  unobserving  —  " 

"Yes,  yes,  he  was  here.  And  this  paper  — "  She 
paused  irresolutely. 

"  Says  he  was  there.  'Pon  my  word,  it 's  most  uncanny. 
There's  some  mystery  here." 

"  I  've  got  it,  Carney  !     This  is  not  Roxbury  Medcroft." 

"  Good  Gawd  !  " 

"This  explains  everything.  Heavens,  Carney!  This 
fellow  is —  is  her  lover  !  She's  running  about  the  country 
with  him.  She's  —  " 

"  Her  lover  ?  'Gad,  my  dear,  he  may  have  been  so  at 
one  time,  but  he  's  the  other  one's  lover  now,  take  my  word 
for  it.  I  say,  'pon  my  soul,  this  is  a  charming  game  your 
friends  the  Rodneys  have  let  us  into.  They  —  " 

"  My  friends  !      Yours,  you  mean  !  "  she  retorted. 

"  Oh,  come  now  !  But  let  it  go  at  that.  They  know, 
of  course,  that  this  fellow  is  n't  her  husband,  and  yet,  by 
Gad,  Agatha,  they  've  gone  about  deliberately  palming  him 
off  on  us  as  the  real  article.  They  are  actually  sanctioning 
the  whole  bloody  —  " 

"  Stop  a  moment,  Carney,"  interrupted  his  wife.  "  The 
London  chap  may  be  the  fraud.  Let  us  go  slow,  my 
dear." 

"  Slow  ?  How  the  devil  can  we  go  slow  in  such  fast 
company?  No!  This  fellow  is  the  fraud.  And  they 
knew  it  too.  They  all  know  it.  They  —  " 

[9*] 


Other   Relations 

"  Rubbish  !  You  forget  that  the  whole  Rodney  tribe  is 
up  in  arms  because  Medcroft  is  making  love  to  his  wife's 
sister.  They  're  not  assuming  anything  there,  let  me  tell 
you.  And  he 's  not  Edith's  lover.  If  he  's  not  her  husband, 
he  's  playing  a  part  that  she  understands  and  approves.  And 
this  —  this,  my  dear  Carney,  may  account  for  the  imaginary 
orphanage  of  Tootles.  Dear  me,  it 's  quite  a  tangle." 

"  I  shall  telegraph  my  solicitors  at  once  for  definite  news. 
They  '11  know  whether  the  real  Medcroft  is  in  London,  and 
then  —  well,  by  Jove,  Agatha,  I  can't  tell  just  wot  steps 
I  '11  take  in  regard  to  these  Rodneys." 

He  went  into  a  long  tirade  against  the  unfortunate  Seattle- 
ites,  as  he  called  them.  "  Understand  me,  Agatha,  I  don't 
blame  Mrs.  Medcroft.  If  she  's  having  an  affair  with  this 
chap  and  can  pull  the  wool  — 

"  But  she  is  n't  having  an  affair  with  this  chap,"  cried 
Mrs.  Odell-Carney,  her  patience  exhausted.  "  She  's  having 
an  affair  with  a  chap  in  London  —  the  one  who  writes  — 
Good  gracious  !  Of  course !  Why,  what  fools  we  are. 
The  real  Medcroft  is  in  London,  and  it  is  he  who  is  writing 
the  letters.  How  stupid  of  me  !  " 

"  Aha  !  "  exclaimed  he  triumphantly.  "  Of  course,  she  's 
getting  letters  from  her  husband.  Why  not  ?  That 's  to 
be  expected.  But,  by  the  everlasting  shagpat,  do  you  sup 
pose  that  her  husband  knows  she  's  off  here  with  another 
fellow  who  masquerades  as  her  husband  ?  No  !  "  He  al 
most  shouted  it.  "  I  've  never  heard  of  anything  so  brazen. 
'Gad,  what  nerve  these  Americans  have.  Just  to  think 
of  it !  " 

"  I  don't  believe  she  is  anything  of  the  sort,"  declared 
his  wife.  "  She 's  as  good  as  gold.  You  can't  fool  me, 


Carney.      I  know  women. 


[93] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

"  Deuce  take  it,  Agatha,  so  do  I.  And  wot 's  more,  1 
know  men." 

"They  're  a  poor  lot,  the  kind  you  know.  This  pseudo 
Medcroft  is  not  your  kind.  He  's  a  very  clever  chap  and 
a  gentleman." 

"  Now,  look  here,  Agatha,  don't  imagine  that  I  'm  going 
to  be  such  a  cad  as  to  turn  against  'em  in  their  hour  of  trial. 
Not  I.  I  'm  more  their  friend  than  ever.  I  '11  help  'em  to 
get  away  from  here,  and  I  '11  bulldose  these  Rodneys  into 
holding  their  peace  forever  after.  It's  the  Rodney  duplicity 
that  1  can't  stand." 

"  Shall  we  stay  here  or  shall  we  find  an  excuse  to  leave  ?  " 
she  asked  pointedly. 

"  We  '11  stay  long  enough  for  me  to  tell  the  Rodneys  wot 
I  think  of  'em.  I  '11  have  an  answer  to  my  despatch  by 
night.  Then,  I  should  advise  you  to  have  a  talk  with  Mrs. 
Medcroft.  You  've  invited  her  to  the  house,  you  know. 
Tell  her  there  can't  be  two  Medcrofts.  See  wot  I  mean  ? 
We'll  see  'em  through  this,  but  —  well,  you  understand." 

Meantime  a  telegram  had  preceded  a  lengthy  letter  into 
the  department  of  the  police,  both  directed  to  Herr  Bauer, 
who  in  reality  was  James  Githens,  of  Scotland  Yard.  The 
telegram  had  said  :  "  Why  do  you  say  M.  is  there  ?  He  is 
in  London.  Explain.  Letter  to-morrow."  The  letter 
had  come,  and  Mr.  Githens,  as  well  as  the  local  police 
office,  was  u  bowled  over,"  to  express  it  in  Scotland  Yard 
English.  He  had  wired  his  employers  that  "  M.  is  still  in 
Innsbruck.  Cannot  be  in  London."  It  was  very  clearly 
set  forth  in  the  letter  that  Roxbury  Medcroft  was  in  Lon 
don,  and  that  Mr.  Githens,  of  Scotland  Yard,  had  betrayed 
his  trust.  He  was  virtually  charged  with  playing  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy,  —  "selling  out,"  as  it  were.  It 

[94] 


Other   Relations 

readily  may  be  expected  that  Mr.  Githens  was  accused  of 
being  in  the  employ  of  the  u  opposition."  Moreover,  it  is 
but  reasonable  to  assume  that  he  took  vigorous  steps  at  once 
to  vindicate  himself:  which  accounts  for  the  woe  that 
lurked  close  behind  the  heels  of  a  man  named  Brock. 

Brock  and  Constance  had  ridden  off  that  afternoon  to 
visit  the  historic  Schloss  Ambras.  The  great  castle  had 
been  saved  for  the  very  last  of  their  explorations  ;  he  had 
just  been  able  to  secure  permission  to  visit  that  part  of  the 
Duke's  residence  open  on  certain  occasions  to  the  curious 
public.  Edith  had  declined  to  accompany  them.  In  the 
first  place,  she  was  expecting  the  all-important  message 
from  her  husband — she  was  "on  nettles,"  to  quote  her 
plaintive  eagerness ;  in  the  second  place,  she  realised  that 
as  the  crisis  was  at  hand  in  the  affairs  of  Brock  and  Con 
stance,  her  presence  was  not  a  necessary  adjunct.  Not 
only  was  she  expecting  a  message  from  Roxbury,  but  eagerly 
anticipating  an  outburst  of  joyous  news  from  the  two  who 
had,  it  seemed,  very  gladly  left  her  behind. 

The  young  couple,  returning  by  the  lower  road  from  the 
Schloss,  came  to  a  resting  place  at  a  little  eating-house  and 
garden  on  the  hillside  overlooking  the  river  Inn.  It  is  a 
quiet,  demure,  unfrequented  place  among  the  crags,  stand 
ing  in  from  the  white  roadway  a  hundred  feet  or  more, 
clouded  by  gorgeous  trees  and  sombre  cliffs.  It  was  to 
this  charming,  romantic  retreat  that  Brock  led  his  fair,  now 
tremulous  inamorata.  She,  too,  knew  that  the  hour  for 
decision  had  come ;  it  was  in  the  air,  in  the  glint  of  his 
eyes,  in  the  leaping  of  her  heart.  And  she  knew  what  she 
would  say  to  him,  and  what  they  would  say  to  the  world  a 
few  hours  hence.  The  mountains  seemed  to  have  lost 
their  splendid  frown  ;  they  were  beaming  down  upon  her, 

[95] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

tenderly  caressing  instead  of  bleak  and  foreboding  as  they 
always  had  been  before. 

A  rosy-cheeked  girl  came  into  the  garden  to  serve  them. 
Swift,  cool  breezes  were  scurrying  down  the  valley,  bearing 
in  their  wake  the  soft  rain  clouds  that  were  soon  to  drench 
the  earth  and  then  radiantly  pass  on.  They  were  quite 
alone,  seated  in  the  shelter  of  a  wide,  overhanging  portico. 
A  soft,  green  darkness  was  creeping  over  the  mountain 
side,  pregnant  with  smell  of  the  shower. 

Constance  ordered  tea  and  a  bite  of  something  to  eat  for 
both.  Brock's  gaze  never  left  her  exquisite  face  while  she 
was  engaged  in  the  pretty  but  rather  self-conscious  occupa 
tion  of  instructing  the  waitress.  After  the  girl  had  de 
parted,  he  leaned  forward  across  the  little  table  and  said,  a 
trifle  hoarsely  and  disjointedly,  — 

"  It  was  most  appetising  to  watch  you  do  that.  I  could 
live  forever  on  nothing  but  tea  and  sandwiches  if  you  were 
to  order  them." 

"You've  said  a  great  many  silly  things  to  me  this 
afternoon." 

"  I  wonder — "  he  stopped  and  lowered  his  voice  — 
"  I  wonder  if  you  would  call  it  silly  if  I  were  to  tell  you 
that  I  love  you,  very,  very  much."  His  gloved  hand 
dropped  upon  hers  as  she  fumbled  aimlessly  with  the 
menu  card ;  something  in  the  very  helplessness  of  that 
long  slim  hand  drew  the  strength  of  all  his  love  toward 
it  —  all  of  this  confident,  arrogant  love  that  had  come 
to  be  so  sure  of  itself  in  these  last  days.  His  grey  eyes, 
dark  with  the  purpose  of  his  passion,  took  on  a  new  and 
impelling  glow;  she  looked  into  them  for  an  instant,  the 
wavering  smile  of  last  resort  on  her  parted  lips;  then  her 
lids  dropped  quickly  and  her  lip  trembled. 

[96] 


Other   Relations 

"  I  should  still  think  you  very  silly,"  she  said  in  a  very 
low  voice,  "  unless  —  unless  you  do  love  me." 

His  fingers  closed  so  tightly  upon  hers  that  she  looked 
up,  her  eyes  swimming  with  tenderness.  Neither  spoke 
for  a  long  minute,  but  words  were  not  needed  to  tell  what 
the  soul  was  saying  through  the  eyes. 

"  I  do  love  you  —  you  know  I  do,  Connie.  I  've  loved 
you  from  the  first  day.  I  cannot  live  without  you.  Con 
nie,  darling,  you  won't  keep  me  waiting  ?  You  will  be  my 
wife  —  you  will  marry  me  at  once  ?  You  do  love  me,  I 
know — I've  known  it  for  days  and  days  —  " 

She  whimsically  broke  in  upon  his  passionate  declaration, 
saying  with  a  pretty  petulance :  "  Oh,  you  have  ?  What 
insufferable  conceit  !  I  —  " 

He  laughed  joyously.  "  I  never  was  so  sure  of  anything 
in  my  life,"  he  said.  "  You  could  n't  help  loving  me,  Con 
stance  ;  I  've  loved  you  so.  You  don't  have  to  tell  me, 
dear ;  I  know.  Still,  I  'd  like  to  hear  you  say,  with  those 
dear  lips  as  well  as  with  your  eyes,  that  you  love  me." 

She  put  her  hand  upon  the  back  of  the  broad  one  which 
held  the  other  imprisoned  ;  there  was  a  proud,  earnest  light 
in  her  eyes.  "  I  do  love  you,"  she  said  simply. 

"  God,  but  I  'm  a  happy  man,"  he  exulted.  Forgetful 
of  the  time  and  the  place,  he  half  arose  and,  leaning 
forward,  kissed  her  full  upon  the  upturned  lips. 

There  was  a  rattling  of  chinaware  behind  them.  In  no 
little  confusion  both  came  tumbling  down  from  Paradise, 
and  found  themselves  under  the  abashed  scrutiny  of  a  very 
red-faced  young  serving-woman. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  stammered  Gretchen  quite  amiably. 
"  I  am  used  to  that,  madame.  A  great  many  ladies  and 
gentlemen  come  here  to  —  to  —  what  you  call  it  ?  "  She 

7  [97] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

placed  the  tea  and  sandwiches  before  them,  her  fingers  all 
thumbs,  her  cheeks  aglow. 

Brock  pulled  himself  together.  Very  sternly  he  said  : 
"  This  young  lady  is  to  be  my  wife." 

"Ach,"  said  Gretchen,  with  a  friendly  smile  and  the 
utmost  deference,  "  that  is  what  they  all  say,  mein  Herr." 
Then,  giggling  approvingly,  she  bustled  away. 

Brock  waited  until  she  was  out  of  sight.  "She  seems 
to  be  onto  us,  as  Freddie  would  say.  But  what  do  we 
care?  I'd  like  to  stand  on  top  of  the  Bandjoch  and  shout 
the  news  to  the  world.  Would  n't  you,  dearest  ?  " 

"  The  world  would  n't  hear  us,  dear,"  she  said  coolly. 
11  Besides,  it 's  raining  up  there.  Just  look  at  it  sweeping 
down  upon  us!  Goodness!" 

He  laughed  hilariously,  amused  by  her  attempt  to  be 
casual  and  indifferent.  "You  can't  turn  it  off"  so  easily  as 
that,  dearest,"  he  cried.  "  Come !  While  it  rains  we 
may  plan.  You  will  marry  me  —  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  she  cried,  aghast.     "  How  utterly  ridiculous  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  day  after  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No,  no  —  nor  week  after  next.     I  —  " 

"See  here,  Connie,  we've  got  some  one  else  to  consider 
as  well  as  ourselves.  In  order  to  square  it  all  up  for  Edith, 
we  must  be  able  to  say  to  these  people  that  we  have  n't 
been  frivolling — that  we  are  going  to  be  married  at  once. 
That  will  let  Edith  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  everything  will 
look  rosy  at  the  outset.  If  we  put  it  off,  the  world  '"ill 
have  said  things  in  its  ignorance  that  she  can  never  refute, 
simply  because  the  world  does  n't  stop  long  enough  to  hear 
two  sides  of  a  story  unless  they  are  given  pretty  closely 
together.  Now  Edith  is  counting  on  us  to  put  the  peeping- 
Tom  Rodneys  and  the  charitable  Carneys  to  rout  with 

[98] 


"  '  I  Jo  love  you,'  she  said  simply." 


Other   Relations 

our  own  little  bombshell.  They  're  saying  nasty  things 
about  all  of  us.  They  're  calling  you  a  vile  thing  for 
stealing  your  sister's  husband,  and  they  're  calling  me  a  dog 
for  what  I  'm  doing.  No  telling  what  they  '11  be  saying 
if  we  don't  step  into  the  breach  as  soon  as  it  is  opened. 
We  can't  afford  to  wait,  no  matter  what  Roxbury  says 
when  he  comes.  We  've  just  got  to  be  able  to  forestall 
even  dear  old  Roxbury.  •  Come  !  Don't  you  see  ?  We 
must  be  married  at  once." 

"  Dear  me,"  she  murmured  softly,  "  what  will  papa 
say  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Constance,  I  will  explain  it  all  to  your  father 
when  he  gets  back  from  South  America  next  winter." 

It  was  now  raining  in  torrents.  They  moved  back  into 
the  darkest  recess  of  their  shelter,  and  blissfully  looked  out 
upon  the  drenched  universe  with  eyes  that  saw  nothing  but 
sweet  sunshine  and  fair  weather. 

The  clattering  of  horses'  hoofs  upon  the  hard  mountain 
road  sounded  suddenly  above  the  hiss  of  the  rain-storm. 
It  was  quite  dark  by  this  time,  night  having  been  hurried 
on  by  the  lowering  skies.  A  moment  later,  three  horse 
men,  drenched  to  the  skin,  drew  up  in  front  of  the  inn, 
threw  their  reins  over  the  posts,  and  dashed  for  shelter. 
They  came  noisily  into  the  arbour,  growling  and  stamping 
their  soggy  feet. 

"  What,  ho  !  "  called  one  of  the  newcomers,  sticking  his 
head  through  a  window  of  the  house.  Brock  and  Miss 
Fowler  looked  on,  amused  by  the  plight  of  the  riders. 
Two  of  them  were  unquestionably  officers  of  the  police; 
the  third  seemed  to  be  an  Englishman.  They  were  gruff, 
burly  fellows,  all  of  them.  For  a  few  minutes  they 
stormed  and  growled  about  their  miserable  luck  in  being 

[99] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

caught  in  the  downpour,  ordering  schnapps  and  brandy  in 
large  and  instant  quantities.  At  last  the  Englishman,  a 
heavy,  sour-faced  man,  turned  his  gaze  in  the  direction  of 
the  lovers,  who  sat  quite  close  together  in  the  dark  corner. 
His  gaze  developed  into  a  stare,  then  a  look  of  triumph. 
A  moment  later  he  was  pointing  out  the  couple  to  his 
companions,  all  three  peering  at  them  with  excited  eyes. 

Brock's  face  went  red  under  the  rude  stare ;  he  was  on 
the  point  of  resenting  it  when  the  Englishman  stepped 
forward.  The  American  arose  at  once. 

"I've  been  looking  for  you,  Mr.  Medcroft  —  if  that  is 
your  name,"  said  the  stranger,  halting  in  front  of  the  table. 
u  My  name  is  Githens,  Scotland  Yard.  These  men  have 
an  order  for  your  arrest.  I  'd  advise  you  to  go  with  them 
peaceably.  The  young  woman  will  not  be  bothered.  She 
is  free  to  go." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ? "  demanded  Brock 
angrily.  Suddenly  he  felt  a  chill  of  misgiving.  What 
had  Roxbury  Medcroft  been  doing  that  he  should  be 
subject  to  arrest  ? 

"You  are  masquerading  here  as  Roxbury  Medcroft  the 
architect.  You  are  not  Medcroft.  I  have  watched  you 
for  weeks.  To-day  we  have  learned  that  Medcroft  is  in 
London.  Your  linen  is  marked  with  a  letter  B.  You  've 
drawn  money  on  a  letter  of  credit  together  with  a  woman 
who  signs  herself  as  Edith  F.  Medcroft.  There  is  some 
thing  wrong  with  you,  Mr.  B.,  and  these  officers,  acting 
for  the  hotel  and  the  State  Bank,  have  been  instructed  to 
detain  you  pending  an  investigation." 

Mr.  Githens  was  vindicating  himself.  He  may  have 
been  a  trifle  disconcerted  by  Miss  Fowler's  musical  laugh 
and  Brock's  plain  guffaw,  but  he  managed  to  preserve  a 

[100] 


Other   Relations 

stiff  dignity.  "  It 's  no  laughing  matter.  Officers,  this  is 
your  man.  Take  him  in  charge.  Madam,  as  I  under 
stand  it,  you  are  the  alleged  sister  of  the  woman  who  is 
working  herself  off  as  Mrs.  Medcroft.  It  may  interest  you 
to  know  that  your  sister  —  if  she  is  your  sister  —  has 
locked  herself  in  her  room  and  was  in  hysterics  when  I  left 
the  hotel.  She  will  be  carefully  guarded,  however.  She 
cannot  escape.  As  for  you,  madam,  there  is  as  yet  no 
complaint  against  you,  but  I  wish  to  notify  you  that  you 
may  consider  yourself  under  surveillance  until  after  your 
friends  have  had  a  hearing  before  the  magistrate  to-morrow. 
As  soon  as  it  has  ceased  raining  we  will  ask  you  to  ride 
with  us  to  the  city.  As  for  Mr.  B.,  he  is  in  charge  of 
these  officers." 

At  eight  o'clock  that  evening  a  solemn  cavalcade  rode 
into  Innsbruck.  There  were  tears  of  expostulation  in  the 
eyes  of  the  lone  young  woman,  flashes  of  indignation  in 
those  of  the  tall  young  man  who  rode  beside  her. 

The  tall  young  man  was  going  to  gaol ! 


[101] 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    THREE    GUARDIANS 

THE  anti-climax  had  struck  the  Hotel  Tirol  some 
hours  before  it  came  upon  Brock  and  Miss  Fowler. 
It  seems  that  Githens  had  gone  first  to  the  big  hos 
telry  in  quest  of  light  on  the  very  puzzling  dilemma  in 
which  he  found  himself  involved.  Inquiries  at  the  office 
only  served  to  stir  up  a  grave  commotion  among  the  clerks 
and  managers,  all  of  whom  vociferously  maintained  that  the 
hotel  was  entirely  blameless  if  any  deception  had  been  prac 
tised.  The  Tirol  did  not  tolerate  anything  that  savoured  of 
the  scandalous ;  the  Tirol  was  a  respectable  house ;  the 
Tirol  was  ever  careful,  always  rigid  in  the  protection  of  its 
good  name ;  and  so  on  and  so  forth  at  great  length  and  with 
great  precision.  But  Mr.  Githens  had  two  officers  with 
him,  and  he  demanded  the  person  of  the  man  calling  him 
self  Roxbury  Medcroft.  The  principal  bank  in  the  city 
was  also  represented  in  the  company  of  investigators. 
Likewise  there  was  a  laconic  gentleman  from  the  British 
office. 

Mr.  Medcroft  was  out.  Then,  they  agreed,  it  was 
necessary  to  see  Mrs.  Medcroft,  or  the  lady  representing 
herself  to  be  such.  Mr.  Githens  was  permitted  to  go  to 
her  rooms  in  company  with  the  manager  of  the  hotel. 
What  transpired  in  those  rooms  during  the  next  fifteen 

[102] 


'H 


The    Three    Guardians 

minutes  would  be  quite  impossible  to  narrate  short  of  an 
entire  volume.  Edith  promptly  collapsed.  Subsequently 
she  became  hysterical.  She  begged  for  time,  and,  getting 
it,  proceeded  to  threaten  every  one  with  prosecution. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Medcroft ! "  she  declared  piteously. 
"  Where  is  the  American  consul  ?  I  demand  the  Ameri 
can  consul ! " 

"  What  has  the  American  government  to  do  with  it  ?  " 
gruffly  demanded  Mr.  Githens. 

"Mr.  —  Mr. — the  gentleman  whom  you  accuse  is  an 
American  citizen  !  "  she  stammered. 

"  Oho  !     Then  he  is  not  an  Englishman  ?  " 

u  I  refuse  to  answer  your  questions.  You  are  imperti 
nent.  I  ask  you,  sir,  as  the  manager  of  this  hotel,  to  eject 
this  man  from  my  rooms."  The  manager  smiled  blandly 
and  did  not  eject  the  man. 

"  But,  madam,"  he  said,  "  we  have  a  right  to  know  who 
and  what  you  are.  If  Mr.  Medcroft  is  in  London,  this 
gentleman  surely  cannot  be  he,  the  real  Mr.  Medcroft. 
We  must  have  an  explanation." 

"I'll  —  I  will  explain  everything  to-morrow.  Oh,  by 
the  way,  is  there  a  telegram  for  me  in  the  office  ?  There 
must  be.  I  've  been  expecting  it  all  day.  I  telegraphed  to 
London  for  it." 

"There  is  no  telegram  down  there,  madam." 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Odell-Carney  appeared  on  the 
scene,  uninvited  but  welcome. 

"  Wot 's  all  this  ?  "  he  demanded  sternly.  Everybody 
proceeded  at  once  to  tell  him.  Somehow  he  got  the  drift 
of  the  story.  "  Get  out  —  all  of  you  !  "  he  said.  "  I 
stand  sponsor  for  Mrs.  Medcroft.  She  is  Mrs.  Medcroft, 
hang  you,  sir.  If  you  come  around  here  bothering  her 

CI03] 


[H 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

again,  I  '11  have  the  law  upon  you.  The  Medcrofts  are 
English  citizens  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  they  are,  are  they  ? "  sneered  Mr.  Githens,  with 
a  sinister  chuckle. 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you,  sir  ?  " 

u  I  'm  from  Scotland  Yard." 

"  I  thought  so.  You  've  proved  it,  'pon  my  soul.  I 
am  Odell-Carney.  Daresay  you  've  heard  of  me." 

"  I  know  you  by  sight,  sir.      But  that  — " 

"  Clever  chap,  by  Jove  !  And  there  's  no  but  about  it. 
Mr.  —  Mr.  —  never  mind  what  it  is.  I  don't  want  to 
know  your  name.  Mrs.  Medcroft,  will  you  permit  me  to 
send  my  wife  up  to  you  ?  Mr.  Manager,  I  insist  that  you 
take  this  c'nfended  rabble  down  to  the  office  and  tell  them 
to  go  to  the  devil  ?  Don't  do  it  up  here ;  do  it  down 
there." 

After  some  further  discussion  and  protest,  the  Scotland 
Yard  man  and  his  party  left  the  room  to  its  distracted  mis 
tress.  It  may  be  well  to  remark,  for  the  sake  of  local  colour, 
that  Tootles  was  crying  lustily,  while  Raggles  barked  in 
spite  of  all  that  O'Brien  could  do  to  stop  him. 

Odell-Carney  sent  his  wife  to  Edith.  A  few  minutes 
later,  as  he  was  making  his  way  to  the  office,  he  came  upon 
Mrs.  Rodney  and  {Catherine,  hurrying,  white-faced,  to  their 
rooms. 

"  Oh,  is  n't  it  dreadful  ? "  wailed  the  former,  putting 
her  clenched  hands  to  her  temples. 

"  Is  n't  wot  dreadful  ?"  demanded  he  brutally. 

"  About  Edith  !     They  're  going  to  arrest  her." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,  madam.      Where  is  Mr.  Rodney  ?  " 

"  He  has  n't  anything  to  do  with  it !  We  're  as  inno 
cent  as  children  unborn.  It 's  all  shocking  to  us.  Mr. 

[104] 


The    Three    Guardians 

Rodney  should  n't  be   arrested.     His  rectitude  is  without  a 
flaw.     For  heaven's  sake,  don't  implicate  him.      He's  —  " 

"  Madam,  I  am  not  a  policeman,"  said  Odell-Carney 
with  scathing  dignity.  "  I  want  your  husband  to  aid  me 
in  hushing  this  c'nfended  thing." 

"  He  shan't  do  it !  I  won't  permit  him  to  be  mixed  up 
in  it,"  almost  screamed  Mrs.  Rodney.  "  I  've  just  heard 
that  he  is  n't  a  husband  at  all.  It 's  atrocious  !  " 

"  Bless  me,  Mrs.  Rodney,"  roared  Odell-Carney,  "  then 
you  ought  n't  to  be  living  with  him  if  he  is  n't  your  hus 
band.  You 're  as  bad  as —  Hi,  look  out,  there  !  Don't  do 
that !  "  Mrs.  Rodney  had  collapsed  into  her  daughter's 
arms,  gasping  for  breath. 

"She's  all  upset,  Mr.  Odell-Carney,"  said  Katherine, 
shaking  her  mother  soundly.  "  It 's  just  nerves.  If  you 
see  papa,  send  him  to  us.  We  must  take  the  first  train 
for  —  for  anywhere.  Will  you  tell  Mrs.  Odell-Carney 
that  if  she  '11  get  ready  at  once,  papa  will  see  to  the 
tickets." 

"  Tickets  ?  But,  my  dear  young  lady,  we  're  not  going 
anywhere.  We  're  going  to  stay  here  and  see  your  cousin 
out  of  her  troubles.  My  wife  is  with  her  now." 

He  started  away  as  Mr.  Rodney  came  puffing  up  the 
stairs.  Odell-Carney  changed  his  mind  and  waited. 

"  Where  's  Edith  ? "  panted  Mr.  Rodney. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  groaned  his  wife,  lowering  her  voice 
because  three  chambermaids  were  looking  on  from  a  near-by 
turn.  "  Don't  mention  that  creature's  name.  Just  think 
what  she  's  got  us  into.  He  is  n't  her  husband.  Alfred, 
telephone  for  tickets  on  to-night's  train.  To-morrow  will 
be  too  late.  I  won't  stay  here  another  minute.  Every 
body  in  the  hotel  is  talking.  We  '11  all  be  arrested." 

[105] 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

But  Mr.  Rodney,  for  once,  was  the  head  of  the  family. 
He  faced  her  sternly. 

"  Go  to  your  rooms,  both  of  you.  We  '11  stay  here  until 
this  thing  is  ended.  I  don't  give  a  hang  what  she  's  done, 
I  'm  not  going  to  desert  her." 

"  But  —  but  he  is  n't  her  husband,"  gasped  Mrs.  Rodney, 
struck  dumb  by  this  amazing  rebellion. 

"  But  she 's  your  cousin,  is  n't  she,  madam  ?  "  he  retorted 
with  fierce  irony. 

44  I  disown  her  !  "  wailed  his  wife,  sans  ratson. 

41  Go  to  your  rooms ! "  stormed  pudgy  Mr.  Rodney. 
Then,  as  they  slunk  away,  he  turned  to  the  approving  Odell- 
Carney,  sticking  out  his  chest  a  trifle  in  his  new-found 
authority.  "  I  say,  Carney,  what 's  to  be  done  next  ?  " 

The  other  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if  in  doubt. 
Then  his  face  cleared,  and  he  took  the  little  man's  arm 
in  his. 

44  We  '11  have  a  drink  first  and  then  see,"  he  said. 

As  they  were  entering  the  buffet,  a  cheery  voice  ac 
costed  them  from  behind.  Freddie  Ulstervelt  came  up, 
real  distress  in  his  face. 

14 1  say,  count  me  in  on  this.  I  '11  buy,  if  I  may.  I  've 
just  heard  the  news  from  the  door  porter.  Bloody  shame, 
is  n't  it  ?  I  had  Mademoiselle  Le  Brun  over  to  hear  the 
band  concert  —  she  is  related  to  that  painter  woman,  by 
the  way  ;  I  told  Katherine  she  was.  Say,  gentlemen,  we'll 
stand  by  Mrs.  Medcroft,  won't  we  ?  Count  me  in.  If 
it 's  anything  that  money  can  square,  I  'm  here  with  a  letter 
of  credit  six  figures  long." 

44  Join  us,"  said  Odell-Carney  warmly.  44  You  're  a 
good  sort,  after  all." 

They  sat  down  at  a  table.  Freddie  stood  between  them, 
[106] 


o 


The    Three    Guardians 

a  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each.  Very  seriously  he  was 
saying  : 

"  I  say,  gentlemen,  we  can't  abandon  a  woman  at  a  time 
like  this.  We  must  stand  together.  All  true  sports  and 
black  sheep  should  stand  together,  don't  you  know." 

It  is  possible  that  Odell-Carney  appreciated  the  subtlety 
of  this  compliment.  Not  so  Mr.  Rodney. 

"  Sports  ?  Black  sheep  ?  Upon  my  soul,  sir,  I  don't 
understand  you,"  he  mumbled.  Mr.  Rodney,  although  he 
hailed  from  Seattle,  had  never  known  anything  but  a  clean 
and  unrumpled  conscience. 

Freddie  clapped  him  jovially  on  the  shoulder.  "  It 's  all 
right,  Mr.  Rodney.  I  '11  take  your  word  for  it.  But  if 
we  are  black  sheep  we  shan't  be  blackguards.  We  '11 
stand  by  the  ship.  What 's  to  be  done  ?  Bail  'em  out  ?  " 

It  is  of  record  that  the  three  gentlemen  were  closeted 
with  the  officers  and  managers  for  an  hour  or  more,  but  it 
is  not  clear  that  they  transacted  anything  that  could  seriously 
affect  the  situation. 

Mrs.  Medcroft,  despite  Mrs.  Odell-Carney's  friendly 
offices,  refused  point  blank  to  discuss  the  situation.  She 
did  not  dare  to  do  or  say  anything  as  yet.  Her  husband 
had  not  telegraphed  the  word  releasing  her  from  the  sorry 
compact.  She  loyally  decided  to  stand  by  the  agreement, 
no  matter  what  the  cost,  until  she  received  word  from 
London  that  he  had  triumphed  or  failed  in  his  brave  fight 
against  the  "  bloodsuckers." 

"  I  will  explain  to-morrow,  dear  Mrs.  Odell-Carney,"  she 
pleaded.  "  Don't  press  me  now.  Everything  shall  be  all 
right.  Oh,  how  I  wish  Constance  were  here  !  She  un 
derstands.  But  she  's  off  listening  to  silly  love  talk  and 
does  n't  even  care  what  happens  to  me.  Burton,  will  you 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

be  good  enough  to  spank  Tootles  if  she  does  n't  stop  that 


screaming  : 

By  nine  o'clock  that  night  every  one  was  discussing  the 
significant  disappearance  of  Constance  Fowler  and  the 
fraudulent  husband  of  Mrs.  Medcroft.  Just  as  Mr.  Odell- 
Carney  was  preparing  to  announce  to  the  unfortunate  wife 
that  the  couple  had  eloped  in  the  most  cowardly  fashion, 
Miss  Fowler  herself  appeared  on  the  scene,  dishevelled, 
mud-spattered,  and  hot,  but  with  a  look  of  firm  determi 
nation  in  her  face.  She  strode  defiantly  through  the  main 
hall,  ignoring  the  curious  gaze  of  the  loungers,  whisking 
the  skirt  of  her  habit  with  disdainful  abandon  as  she  passed 
on  to  the  lift.  A  few  moments  later  she  burst  in  upon  her 
sister,  a  very  angry  young  person  indeed.  The  Odell- 
Carneys  were  down  the  hall  discussing  her  strange  defec 
tion;  it  was  with  no  little  relief  that  they  saw  her  enter 
the  room. 

"Are  we  alone?"  demanded  Miss  Fowler,  not  giving 
Edith  time  to  proclaim  her  joy  at  seeing  her.  "  Well, 
I  've  arranged  a  way  to  get  him  out,"  she  went  on,  her 
lips  set. 

"Out?"  murmured  Mrs.  Medcroft. 

"  Of  course.  We  can't  let  him  stay  in  there  all  night, 
Edith.  How  much  money  have  you?  Hurry  up,  please! 
Don't  stare  !  " 

"  In  where  ?     Who  's  in  where  ?  " 

"  He  's  in  gaol !  "  with  supreme  scorn.  "  Have  n't  you 
heard  ? " 

Mrs.  Medcroft  began  to  cry.  "  Mr.  Brock  in  gaol  ? 
Good  heavens,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  —  I  was  depending  on 
him  so  much.  He  ought  to  be  here  at  this  very  instant 
What  has  he  been  doing  ?  " 

[108] 


The    Three    Guardians 

"  Edith  Medcroft,  stop  sniffling,  and  don't  think  of 
yourself  for  a  while.  It  will  do  you  a  great  deal  of  good. 
Where  's  your  money  ?  " 

Ruthlessly  she  began  to  rummage  Edith's  treasure  trunk. 
The  other  came  to  her  assistance  after  a  dazed  interval. 
The  family  purse  came  to  light. 

"  I  have  a  little  over  four  thousand  crowns,"  she  mur 
mured  helplessly. 

"  Give  it  me,  quick.  There 's  no  time  to  waste.  I 
have  about  five  thousand.  It 's  all  in  notes,  thank  heaven. 
It  is  n't  quite  enough,  but  I  '11  try  to  make  it  do.  Don't 
stop  me,  Edith.  I  have  n't  time  to  answer  questions.  He  's 
in  gaol,  did  n't  you  hear  me  say  ?  And  I  love  him  !  " 

u  But  the  —  the  money  ?      Is  it  to  bail  him  out  with  ?  " 

"  Bail  ?  No,  my  dear,  it 's  to  buy  him  out  with.  'Sh  ! 
Is  there  any  one  in  that  room  ?  Well,  then,  I  '11  tell  you 
Something."  The  heads  of  the  two  sisters  were  quite  close 
together.  "  He  's  in  a  cell  at  the  —  the  prison-hof,  or  what 
ever  you  call  it  in  German.  It 's  gaol  in  English.  I  have 
arranged  to  bribe  one  of  the  gaolers  —  his  guard.  He  will 
let  him  escape  for  ten  thousand  crowns  —  we  must  do  it, 
Edith  !  Then  Mr.  Brock  will  ride  over  the  Brenner  Pass 
and  catch  a  train  somewhere,  before  his  escape  is  discovered. 
I  expect  to  meet  him  in  Paris  day  after  to-morrow.  Have 
you  heard  from  Roxbury  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  wailed  Roxbury's  wife. 

"  He  's  a  brute  !  "  stormed  Miss  Fowler. 

"  Constance  !  "  flared  Mrs.  Medcroft,  aghast  at  this  sign 
of  lese-majesty. 

"  Don't  tell  anybody,"  called  Constance,  as  she  banged 
the  door  behind  her. 

Soon  after  midnight  a  closely  veiled  lady  drove  up  to  a 
[  I09] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

street  corner  adjacent  to  the  city  prison,  a  dolorous-looking 
building  which  loomed  up  still  and  menacing  just  ahead. 
She  alighted  and,  dismissing  the  cab,  strode  off  quickly 
into  the  side  street.  At  a  distant  corner,  in  front  of  a 
crowded  eating-house,  two  spirited  horses,  saddled  and  in 
charge  of  a  grumbling  stable-boy,  champed  noisily  at  their 
bits.  The  young  woman  exchanged  a  few  rapid  sentences 
with  the  boy,  and  then  returned  in  the  direction  from 
which  she  came.  A  man  stepped  out  of  a  doorway  as  she 
neared  the  corner,  accosting  her  with  a  stealthy  deference 
that  proclaimed  him  to  be  anything  but  an  unwelcome 
marauder. 

The  conversation  which  passed  between  the  slender, 
nervous  young  woman  and  this  burly  individual  was  carried 
on  in  very  cautious  tones,  accompanied  by  many  quick  and 
furtive  glances  in  all  directions,  as  if  both  were  in  fear  of 
observers.  At  last,  after  eager  pleading  on  one  side  and 
stolid  expostulation  on  the  other,  a  small  package  passed 
from  the  hand  of  the  young  woman  into  the  huge  paw  of 
the  man.  The  latter  gave  her  a  quick,  cautious  salute  and 
hurried  back  toward  the  gaol. 

The  veiled  young  woman,  very  nervous  and  strangely 
agitated,  made  her  way  back  to  the  spot  where  the  horses 
were  standing.  Making  her  way  through  the  cluster  of 
small  tables  which  lined  the  inner  side  of  the  sidewalk, 
she  found  one  unoccupied  at  the  extreme  end,  a  position 
which  commanded  a  view  of  the  street  down  which  she 
had  just  come. 

Half  an  hour  passed.  Midnight  revellers  at  the  sur 
rounding  tables  began  to  take  notice  of  this  tall,  elegant, 
nervous  young  woman  with  the  veiled  face.  It  was  plain 
to  all  of  them  that  she  was  expecting  someone ;  naturally 

[no] 


'H 


The    Three    Guardians 

it  would  be  a  man,  therefore  a  lover.  Her  nervousness 
grew  as  the  minutes  lengthened  into  the  hour.  A  clock 
in  a  tower  near  by  struck  one.  She  was  now  staring  with 
wide,  eager  eyes  down  the  street,  alertly  watching  the  ap 
proach  of  anyone  who  came  from  that  direction.  Twice 
she  half  arose  and  started  forward  with  a  quick  sigh  of 
relief,  only  to  sink  back  again  dejectedly  upon  discovering 
that  she  had  been  mistaken  in  the  identity  of  a  newcomer. 

Half-past  one,  then  two  o'clock.  The  merry-makers 
were  thinning  out;  she  was  quite  alone  at  her  end  of  the 
place.  By  this  time  a  close  observer  might  have  noticed 
that  she  was  trembling  violently  ;  there  was  an  air  of  abject 
fear  and  despair  in  her  manner. 

Why  did  he  not  come  ?  What  had  happened  ?  Had 
the  plot  failed  ?  Was  he  even  now  lying  wounded  unto 
death  as  the  result  of  his  effort  to  escape  captivity  ?  A 
hundred  horrid  thoughts  raced  through  her  throbbing,  over 
wrought  brain.  He  should  have  been  with  her  two  hours 
ago  —  he  should  now  be  far  on  his  way  to  freedom.  Alas, 
something,  appalling  had  happened,  she  was  sure  of  it. 

At  last  there  hove  in  sight,  coming  from  the  direction 
in  which  lay  the  prison,  a  group  of  three  men.  It  was  a 
jaunty  party,  evidently  under  the  influence  of  many  liba 
tions.  They  came  with  arms  linked,  with  dignified  but 
unsteady  gait,  their  hats  well  back  on  their  heads.  In  the 
middle  was  a  very  tall  man,  flanked  on  one  side  by  a  very 
short  fat  one,  on  the  other  by  a  slender  youth  who  wanted 
to  sing. 

She  recognised  them  and  would  have  drawn  back  to  a 
less  exposed  spot,  but  the  slender  youth  saw  her  before  she 
could  do  so.  He  shouted  to  his  companions  as  if  they 
were  two  blocks  away. 

[in] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

"  There  she  is  !     Hooray  !  " 

They  bore  down  upon  her.  The  next  instant  they  were 
solemnly  shaking  hands  with  her,  much  to  her  dismay. 

"  Cons'ance,  we  've  been  lookin'  f-fer  you  ever'— where 
in  town.  W-where  on  earth  Ve  you  been  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Rodney  thickly,  with  a  laudable  attempt  at  severity. 

"  Ever  sinch  'leven  o'clock,  Conshance,"  supplemented 
Freddie,  trying  to  frown. 

"My  dear  Miss  F-Fowler,"  began  Odell-Carney  in 
his  most  suave  manner,  "it  is  after  two  o'clock.  In  —  in 
the  morning  at  that.  You  —  you  shouldn't  be  sittin'  here 
all  'lone  thish  —  this  hour  in  the  morning.  Please  come 
home  with  us.  Your  mother  hash  —  has  ask  us  to  fetch 
you  —  I  mean  your  sister.  Beg  pardon." 

"I  —  I  cannot  go,  gentlemen,"  she  stammered.  "  Please 
don't  insist  —  please  don't  ask  why.  I  cannot  go  — 

"  I  shay,  Conshance,  by  Jove,  the  joke 's  on  you,"  ex 
claimed  Freddie.  "  I  know  who  't  ish  you  're  waitin'  f-for. 
Well,  he  can't  come.  He's  locked  in." 

"Freddie,  you  are  drunk  !  "  in  deep  scorn. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  admitted  cheerfully.  "  We  Ve  looked 
ever' where  for  you.  We  're  your  frien's.  He  said  it  was 
at  'n  eatin'-house.  We  Ve  been  ever'  eatin'-house  in  Inch- 
brook.  Was  here  first  of  all.  Leave  it  to  Rodney. 
Wassen  we,  Rodney  ?  You  bet  we  was.  You  wassen 
here  at  'leven  o'clock.  ,  Come  on  home,  Conshance. 
'S  all  right.  He's  safe.  He  can't  come." 

"  But  he  will  come,  unless  something  terrible  has  hap 
pened  to  him,"  she  almost  sobbed  in  her  desperation. 
"  Cousin  Alfred,  won't  you  go  to  the  gaol  and  see  what 
has  happened  ? " 

Mr.  Rodney  took  off  his  hat  gallantly  and  would  Have 
[112] 


The    Three    Guardians 

gone  to  do  her  bidding  had  not  Mr.  Odell-Carney  laid  a 
restraining  grip  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Let  me  explain,  Miss  F-Fowler.  You  shee  —  see, 
he  told  us  you  'd  be  here,  but,  hang  it  all,  you  wassen 
here  wh-when  we  came.  Never  give  up,  says  I  to  my 
frien's.  We  '11  search  till  doomshday.  I  knew  we  'd  find 
you  if  we  kep'  on  searching.  Thash  jus'  wot  I  said  to 
Roddy,  did  n'  I,  Roddy  ?  We  mush  have  overlokked  yo' 
when  we  were  here  at  'leven." 

"  I  was  not  here  at  eleven,"  she  cried  breathlessly. 

"  Thash  jus'  what  I  toP  'em,"  insisted  Freddie  trium 
phantly.  "I  saysh  :  'What's  use  lookin'  here?  She  — 
she  is  n't  on  top  of  any  these  tables,'  an'  I  —  I  knew 
you  wassen  unner  'em.  You  ain't  —  " 

"  Permit  me,"  interrupted  Odell-Carney  with  grave  dig 
nity.  "  Your  friend,  Miss  Fowler,  is  not  in  gaol.  He 
is  out  —  " 

u  Not  in  gaol !  "  she  almost  shrieked.  "  I  knew  it  !  I 
knew  it  could  not  go  wrong.  But  where  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  's  out  on  bail.  We  bailed  him  out  at  half-past 
ten —  Wot!"  She  had  leaped  to  her  feet  with  a  short 
scream  and  was  clutching  his  arm  frantically. 

"On  bail  ?  At  half-past  ten  ?  Good  'heavens,  then 
-  then  —  oh,  are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Poshtive,  abs'lutely." 

u  Then  what  has  become  of  my  nine  thousand  crowns  ?  " 

"  You  c'n  search  me,  Conshance,"  murmured  Freddie. 

"  I  don'  know  what  you  're  talkin'  'bout,  Cons'ance," 
said  Mr.  Rodney  in  a  very  hurt  tone.  "We — we  put 
up  security  Pr  five  thous'n  dollars,  that 's  what  we  did. 
This  is  all  the  thanks  we  getsh  for  it.  Ungrachful !  " 

Constance  had  been  thinking  very  hard,  paying  no  heed 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 


to  his  maudlin  defence.  It  rapidly  was  dawning  upon  her 
that  these  men  had  secured  her  lover's  release  on  bail  at 
half-past  ten  o'clock,  an  hour  and  a  half  before  she  had 
given  her  bribe  of  nine  thousand  crowns  to  the  gaoler. 
That  being  the  case,  it  was  becoming  clear  to  her  that 
the  wretch  deliberately  had  taken  the  money,  knowing  that 
Brock  was  not  in  the  prison,  and  with  the  plain  design  to 
rob  her  of  the  amount.  It  was  a  transaction  in  which  he 
could  be  perfectly  secure;  bribing  of  public  officials  is  a 
solemn  offence  in  Austria  and  Germany.  She  could  have 
no  recourse,  could  make  no  complaint.  Her  money  was 
gone  ! 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Br —  Mr.  Medcroft  ?  "  she  demanded, 
her  voice  full  of  anxiety.  If  he  were  out  of  gaol,  why  had 
he  failed  to  come  to  the  meeting-place  ? 

"  He 's  locked  in,"  persisted  Freddie. 

"That's  just  it,  Miss  Fowler,"  explained  Odell-Carney 
glibly.  "  You  shee  —  see,  it  was  this  way  :  we  got  him 
out  on  bail  on  condition  he  'd  'pear  to-morrow  morning 
'fore  the  magistrate.  Affer  we  'd  got  him  out,  he  insisted 
on  coming  'round  here  so's  he  could  run  away  with  you. 
That  wassen  a  gennelmanly  thing  to  do,  affer  we  'd  put  up 
our  money.  We  coul'n'  afford  have  him  runnin'  away  with 
you.  So  we  had  him  locked  in  a  room  on  top  floor  of  the 
hotel,  where  he  can't  get  out  'n'  leave  us  to  hold  the  bag, 
don't  you  see.  He  almos'  cried  an'  said  you  'd  be  waitin' 
at  the  church  or  —  or  something  like  that  bally  song,  don't 
you  know,  an'  as  a  lash  reshort,  to  keep  him  quiet  like  a 
good  ferrer  —  feller,  we  said  we  'd  come  an'  get  you  an' 
'splain  everything  saffis — sasfac  —  ahem  !  sassisfac'rly." 

She  looked  at  them  with  burning  eyes.  Slow  rage  was 
conning  to  the  flaming  point.  And  for  this  she  had  sat  and 

["4] 


A^inrw/7/^ 

^/  j>  D  ))    IV  M  V>A^^ 


sa 


The    Three    Guardians 

suffered  for  hours  in  a  street  restaurant !  For  this  !  Her 
eyes  fell  upon  the  limp  horses  and  the  dejected  stable-boy. 
Two  hours ! 

"  You  will  release  him  at  once  !  "  she  stormed.  "  Do 
you  hear  ?  It  is  outrageous  !  " 

Without  another  word  to  the  dazed  trio,  she  rushed  to 
the  curb  and  commanded  the  boy  to  assist  her  into  the 
saddle.  He  did  so,  in  stupid  amazement.  Then  she  in 
structed  him  to  mount  and  follow  her  to  the  Tirol  as  fast 
as  he  could  ride.  The  horses  were  tearing  off  in  the  dark 
ness  a  moment  later. 

The  three  guardians  stood  speechless  until  the  clatter 
died  away  in  the  distance.  Then  Mr.  Rodney  pulled  him 
self  together  with  an  effort  and  groaned  in  abject  horror. 

"  By  thunner,  the  damn  girl  is  stealin'  somebody's 
horshes  ! " 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE    PRODIGAL    HUSBAND 

THE  unlucky  Brock,  wild  with  rage  and  chagrin,  had 
paced  his  temporary  prison  in  the  top  storey  of  the 
Tirol  from  eleven  o'clock  till  two,  bitterly  cursing 
the  fools  who  were  keeping  him  in  durance  more  vile  than 
that  from  which  they  had  generously  released  him.  He 
realised  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  create  a  disturbance  in  the 
house  by  clamouring  for  freedom,  because,  in  the  first  place, 
there  already  had  been  scandal  enough,  and  in  the  second 
place,  his  distrustful  bondsmen  had  promised  faithfully  to 
seek  out  the  devoted  Connie  and  apprise  her  of  his  release. 
He  had  no  thought,  of  course,  that  in  the  mean  time  she 
might  be  duped  into  paying  a  bribe  to  the  guard. 

Not  only  was  he  direfully  cursing  the  trio,  but  also  the 
addlepated  Medcroft  and  his  own  addlepated  self.  It  is  to 
be  feared  that  he  had  harsh  thoughts  of  all  the  Medcrofts, 
as  far  down  as  Raggles.  His  dream  of  love  and  happiness 
had  turned  into  a  nightmare;  the  comedy  had  become  a 
tragic  snarl  of  all  the  effects  known  to  melodrama.  Bit 
terly  he  lamented  the  fact  that  now  he  could  not  go  before 
the  assembled  critics  in  the  morning  and  proclaim  to  them 
that  Constance  was  his  wife.  From  this,  it  readily  may  be 
judged  that  Brock  was  not  familiar  with  all  the  details  of 
the  vigorous  Miss  Fowler's  plan.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 

[116] 


The    Prodigal   Husband 

did  not  know  that  he  was  expected  to  fly  the  country  like  a 
fugitive.  She  had  known  in  her  heart  that  he  would  never 
agree  to  a  plan  of  that  sort ;  it  was,  therefore,  necessary  for 
her  to  deceive  him  in  more  ways  than  one.  Plainly  speak 
ing,  Brock  had  laboured  under  the  delusion  that  she  merely 
proposed  to  bribe  the  gaoler  into  letting  him  off  for  the 
night,  in  order  that  by  some  hook  or  crook  they  could  be 
married  early  in  the  morning  —  provided  her  conception  of 
the  State  marriage  laws  as  they  applied  to  aliens  was  absolutely 
correct.  (It  was  not  correct,  it  may  be  well  to  state,  although 
that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case  at  this  moment.)  If 
he  had  but  known  that  she  contemplated  paying  ten  thou 
sand  crowns  for  his  surreptitious  release,  making  herself 
criminally  liable,  and  that  he  was  expected  to  catch  a  night 
train  across  the  border,  it  is  only  just  to  his  manhood  to  say 
that  he  should  have  balked,  even  though  the  act  were  to  cost 
him  years  of  prison  servitude  —  which,  of  course,  was  un 
likely  in  the  face  of  the  explanation  that  would  be  made  in 
proper  time  by  the  real  Medcroft.  It  thus  may  be  seen 
that  Brock  not  only  had  been  vilely  imprisoned  twice  in  the 
same  night,  but  that  he  was  very  much  in  the  dark,  notwith 
standing  his  attempt  to  make  light  of  the  situation. 

It  occurred  to  him,  at  two  o'clock,  that  pacing  the  floor 
in  the  agony  of  suspense  was  a  very  useless  occupation. 
He  would  go  to  bed.  Morning  would  bring  relief  and  sur 
cease  to  his  troubled  mind.  Constance  was  doubtless 
sound  asleep  in  her  room.  Everything  would  have  been 
explained  to  her  long  before  this  hour;  she  would  under 
stand.  So,  with  the  return  of  his  old  sophistry,  he  un 
dressed  and  crawled  into  the  strange  bed.  Somehow  he 
did  not  like  it  as  well  as  the  cot  in  the  balcony  below. 

Just  as  he  was  dropping  ofF  into  the  long-delayed  slum- 


m 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

ber,  he  heard  a  light  tapping  at  his  door.  He  sat  up  in  bed 
like  a  flash,  thoroughly  wide  awake.  The  rapping  was  re 
peated.  He  called  out  in  cautious  tones,  asking  who  was 
there,  at  the  same  time  slipping  from  bed  to  fumble  in  the 
darkness  for  his  clothes. 

"  'Sh  !  "  came  from  the  hallway.  He  rushed  over  and 
put  his  ear  to  the  door.  "  It  is  I.  Are  you  awake  ?  I 
can't  stay  here.  It's  wrong.  Listen:  here  is  a  note  — 
under  the  door.  Good  night,  darling!  I  'm  heartbroken." 

"  Thank  God,  it 's  you  !  "  he  cried  softly.  "  How  I  love 
you,  Constance ! " 

"  'Sh  !  Edith  is  with  me  !  Oh,  I  wish  it  were  morning 
and  I  could  see  you.  I  have  so  much  to  say." 

Another  querulous  voice  broke  in  :  "  For  heaven's  sake, 
Connie,  don't  stand  here  any  longer.  Our  reputations  are 
bad  enough  as  it  is.  Good  night  —  Roxbury  !  "  He  dis 
tinctly  heard  the  heartless  Edith  giggle.  Then  came  the 
soft,  quick  swish  of  garments  and  the  nocturnal  visitors 
were  gone.  He  picked  up  the  envelope  and,  waiting  until 
they  were  safely  down  the  hall,  turned  on  the  light. 

"  Dearest,"  he  read,  "  it  was  not  my  fault  and  I  know 
it  was  not  yours.  But,  oh,  you  don't  know  how  I  suffered 
all  through  those  hours  of  waiting  at  the  cafe.  They  did 
not  find  me  until  after  two.  They  were  drunk.  They 
tried  to  explain.  What  do  you  think  the  authorities  will  do 
to  me  if  they  find  that  I  gave  that  horrid  man  bribe  money  ? 
Really,  I  'm  terribly  nervous.  But  he  won't  dare  say  any 
thing,  will  he?  He  is  as  guilty  as  I,  for  he  took  it.  He 
took  it  knowing  that  you  were  free  at  the  time.  But  we 
will  talk  it  over  to-morrow.  I  've  just  got  back  to  the 
hotel.  I  would  n't  go  to  bed  until  Edith  brought  me  up 
to  hear  your  dear  voice.  I  am  so  glad  you  are  not  dead. 

[118] 


The   Prodigal   Husband 

It  is  impossible  to  release  you  to-night.  Those  wretches 
have  the  key.  How  I  loathe  them  !  Edith  says  the  hotel 
is  wild  with  gossip  about  everything  and  everybody.  It 's  just 
awful.  Be  of  good  heart,  my  beloved.  I  will  be  your 
faithful  slave  until  death.  With  love  and  adoration  and 
kisses.  Your  own  Constance. 

P.  S.      Roxbury  has  not  made,  a  sign.     Edith  is  frantic." 

Several  floors  below  the  relieved  and  ecstatic  Brock,  Mrs. 
Medcroft  was  soon  urging  her  sister  to  go  to  bed  and  let 
the  story  go  until  daylight.  She  persisted  in  telling  all 
that  she  had  done  and  all  that  she  had  endured. 

"We  must  never  let  him  know  that  we  actually  gave 
that  wretch  nearly  twenty-five  hundred  dollars,  Edith.  He 
would  never  forgive  us.  I  admit  that  I  was  a  fool  and  a 
ninny,  so  don't  tell  me  I  am.  I  can  see  by  the  way  you 
are  looking  that  you  're  just  crazy  to.  It 's  all  Roxbury's 
fault,  anyway.  Why  should  he  get  up  and  make  a  speech 
in  London  without  letting  us  know  ?  Just  see  how  it  has 
placed  us  !  I  think  Mr.  Brock  is  an  angel  to  do  what  he 
has  done  for  you  and  Roxbury.  Yes,  my  dear,  you  will 
have  to  confess  that  Roxbury  is  a  brute  —  a  perfect  brute. 
I  'm  sure,  if  you  have  a  spark  of  fairness  in  you,  you  must 
hate  him.  No,  no !  Don't  say  anything,  Edith.  You 
know  I  'm  right." 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  say  anything,"  declared  Edith  angrily. 
"  I  'm  going  to  bed." 

"Edith,  if  you  don't  mind,  dear,  I  think  I'll  sleep  with 
you."  After  a  moment  of  deep  reflection  she  added  plain 
tively  :  "  There  is  so  much  that  I  just  have  to  tell  you, 
deary.  It  —  it  won't  keep  till  daylight." 

Bright  and  early  in  the  morning,  the  tired,  harassed  night- 
farers  were  routed  from  their  rooms  by  a  demand  from  the 

["9] 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

management  of  the  hotel  that  they  appear  forthwith  in  the 
private  office.  This  order  included  every  member  of 
Mr.  Rodney's  party,  excepting  the  Medcroft  baby.  Con 
siderably  distressed  and  very  much  concerned  over  the  prob 
able  outcome  of  the  conference,  the  Rodney  forces  made 
their  way  to  the  offices  —  not  altogether  in  an  open  fashion, 
but  by  humiliatingly  unusual  avenues.  The  Rodney  family 
came  down  the  back  stairs.  Brock  was  solemnly  ushered 
through  the  public  office  by  Mr.  Odell-Carney  and  Freddie 
Ulstervelt.  It  is  not  stretching  the  truth  to  say  that  they 
were  sour  and  sullen,  but,  as  may  be  suspected,  from 
peculiarly  different  causes.  At  last  all  were  congregated 
in  the  stuffy  office,  very  much  subdued  and  very  much  at 
odds  with  each  other.  Mr.  Githens  was  there.  Likewise 
the  gentleman  from  the  bank  and  a  prominent  person  from 
the  department  of  police. 

Miss  Fowler  glanced  about  uneasily,  and  was  relieved 
to  discover  that  her  treacherous  gaoler  was  not  there  to 
confront  her  with  charges.  It  had  occurred  to  her  that  he 
might,  after  all,  have  tricked  her  into  committing  a  crime 
against  the  government. 

It  was  quite  noticeable  that  Mrs.  Rodney  and  Katherine 
did  not  speak  to  the  Medcroft  contingent  —  in  fact,  they 
ignored  them  quite  completely.  Mrs.  Rodney  was  very 
pale  and  very  deeply  distressed.  She  cast  many  glances 
at  the  red-eyed  and  sheepish  Mr.  Rodney,  —  glances  that 
meant  much  to  the  further  torture  of  his  soul. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you,  Herr  Rodney,  that  the 
rooms  which  you  now  occupy,  and  those  of  your  friends, 
are  no  longer  at  your  disposal.  They  have  been  engaged 
for  from  sometime  this  day  by  a  —  " 

"Look    here,"    interrupted   Odell-Carney   bluntly,    "if 


^  V*Kx         ^*"  ^^  \x          ^^M^  i\_r    r'  —  "^  •    • 

Prodigal   Husband 


you  mean  that  we  are  not  wanted  here  any  longer,  why  not 
say  so  ?  Don't  lie  about  it.  We  are  leaying  to-day,  in  any 
event,  so  wot  's  the  odds  ?  Now,  come  down  to  facts  :  why 
are  we  summoned  here  like  a  crowd  of  school  children  ?  " 

The  manager  looked  at  Mr.  Githens  and  then  at  the 
police  officer. 

"  Ahem  !  It  seems  that  Herr  Grabetz  of  the  police 
department  desires  to  ask  some  questions  of  your  party 
in  my  presence.  You  will  understand,  sir,  that  the  hotel 
has  been  imposed  upon  by  —  by  these  people.  It  seems, 
also,  that  the  bank  insists  upon  having  some  light  thrown 
upon  the  methods  by  which  Mrs.  Medcroft  secures  money 
on  her  letter  of  credit." 

"You  are  welcome  to  all  that,  sir,"  declared  Mr.  Odell- 
Carney,  "but  I  am  interested  to  know  just  why  my  wife 
and  I  are  brought  into  this  affair." 

"Because  you  are  guests  of  Mr.  Rodney,  sir,  I  regret. 
to  state.      We   have  no  complaint  against  you,  sir.      You 
are  well  known  here.     The  —  the  others  are  not.     They 
are  —  what  you  call  it?      Humbugs!     It  may  be  that  they 
also  have  swindled  you  !  " 

Mr.  Rodney,  at  this  point,  leaped  to  his  feet  and  rushed 
over  to  shake  his  fist  in  the  face  of  the  insulting  hotel  man. 
But  Edith  Medcroft  arose  suddenly,  like  a  tragedy  queen, 
and  spoke,  her  clear,  determined  voice  stilling  the  turbulent 
spirit  of  her  outraged  host. 

"  One  moment,  please,"  she  said.  "  This  all  can  be 
satisfactorily  explained.  No  wrong  has  been  done.  It 
will  all  be  cleared  up  in  time.  We  —  " 

"In  time?"  interrupted  the  manager.  "Madam,  this 
is  the  time.  You  are  here  with  a  man  who  is  not  your 
husband,  yet  who  purports  to  be  such." 

[121] 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

"It  may  throw  some  light  on  the  matter  if  I  announce 
that  the  gentleman  in  question  is  my  affianced  husband." 
It  was  Miss  Fowler  who  spoke.  Every  one  stared  at  her 
as  she  moved  over  to  Brock's  side. 

"  If  you  will  look  in  the  office,  you  will  find  a  tele 
gram  there  for  me,"  went  on  Mrs.  Medcroft,  pale  but 
absolutely  confident.  The  manager  called  out  through 
the  door.  Absolute  silence  reigned  while  the  reply  was 
awaited. 

"No  telegram  for  Mrs.  Medcroft  last  night  or  to-day," 
announced  the  manager  sternly,  as  he  glanced  through  the 
slim  bunch  of  blue  envelopes.  "  There  are  four  here  for 
a  Mr.  Brock,  who  has  not  yet  arrived  in  —  " 

"  Brock  !  "  shouted  three  voices  in  one. 

A  tall  man,  forgetting  his  English  and  his  eyeglass,  sprang 
forward  and  grabbed  the  telegrams  from  the  manager's 
hand.  "  Holy  mackerel !  Give  'em  here  !  "  he  shouted. 
Two  eager,  beautiful  young  women  were  hanging  to  his 
elbows  as  he  ruthlessly  broke  one  of  the  seals.  "  The 
chump!  It's  from  Rox  !  They 're  all  from  Rox — and 
they  are  two  or  three  days  old  ! " 

Just  then  the  unexpected  happened. 

The  office  door  opened  with  a  bang,  and  the  real  Roxbury 
Medcroft  stepped  into  the  room.  He  halted  just  inside  the 
door  and  looked  about  in  momentary  bewilderment. 

"  This  is  a  private  — "  began  the  manager,  stepping 
forward.  A  flying  figure  sped  past  him ;  a  delighted  little 
shriek  rang  in  his  ears.  He  saw  Edith  Medcroft  hurl 
herself  into  the  arms  of  her  own  husband.  At  the  same 
moment  Brock  bounded  across  the  room  and  pounced 
eagerly  upon  the  welcome  intruder. 

"  Good  Gawd  !  "  gasped  Odell-Carney.  "  Wot 's  all 
[122] 


The   Prodigal   Husband 

this  ?  "  His  wife  suddenly  began  fanning  herself,  search 
ing  for  breath. 

"  This  is  my  husband  ! "  cried  Edith,  triumph  in  her 
voice,  tears  in  her  eyes,  as  she  faced  the  astonished 
observers.  "Now,  what  have  you  to  say?" 

It  was  a  perfectly  natural  but  not  an  especially  obvious 
question.  The  little  manager  threw  up  his  hands  and  cried 
out  in  a  sad  mixture  of  French,  English  and  Helvetian, — 

"What?  Another  husband?  Madam,  how  many 
more  do  you  propose  to  inflict  us  with  ?  We  cannot  allow 
it !  The  management  will  not  permit  you  to  change 
husbands  the  instant  a  new  guest  arrives  in  the  house.  It 
is  not  to  be  heard  of —  no,  no  !  " 

"Are  you  afraid  that  the  books  won't  balance?"  asked 
Brock  with  a  joyous  grin,  a  great  load  off  his  heart. 
"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  permit  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Rox- 
bury  Medcroft,  my  friend  and  fellow  conspirator.  He  is 
the  husband  of  this  lady,  not  I.  I  am  to  be  the  husband 
of  this  lady,  thank  God." 

There  was  a  moment  of  absolute  silence  —  it  may  have 
been  stupor.  The  two  audiences  faced  each  other  with 
emotions  widely  at  variance.  It  was  Mrs.  Rodney  who 
spoke  first. 

"  Is  this  true,  Edith  ?  "  she  quavered. 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  cried  Edith,  her  eyes  dancing. 

"  Then,  what  are  you  doing  here  with  a  man  who 
is  n't  your  husband  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Rodney,  suddenly 
aflame. 

"  I  can  explain  everything  to  you  later  on,  Mrs.  Rodney," 
interposed  Mrs.  Odell-Carney  calmly.  She  had  divined  at 
least  a  portion  of  the  truth,  and  she  was  clever  enough  to 
put  herself  on  the  right  side.  Edith  cast  an  involuntary 

[I23] 


A^IT  inr  177/7 


The   Husbands    of   Edith 

look  of  surprise  at  the  Englishwoman.  "I  have  known 
everything  from  the  first.  Mrs.  Medcroft  and  I  are  closer 
friends  than  you  may  have  thought."  She  gave  Edith  a 
meaning  look,  and  a  moment  later  was  whispering  to  her  in 
a  private  corner  of  the  private  office :  "  My  dear,  I  don't 
know  what  it  means,  but  you  must  tell  me  everything  as 
soon  as  possible.  I  am  your  friend.  Whatever  it  all  is, 
it 's  ripping  !  " 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  pow-wowing  and  chatter, 
charges  and  refutations,  excuses  and  explanations.  Mr. 
Medcroft  finally  waved  every  one  aside  in  the  most  d'egag'e 
manner  imaginable. 

"  Don't  crowd  me !  Hang  it  all,  I  'm  not  a  curiosity. 
There  is  ir't  anything  to  go  crazy  about.  My  friend,  Mr. 
Brock,  has  just  done  me  a  trifling  favour.  That 's  all. 
The  whole  story  will  be  in  the  London  papers  this  morn 
ing.  Buy  'em.  I  'm  going  up  to  my  wife's  room  to  see 
my  baby.  I  '11  come  down  and  explain  everything  when 
I've  had  a  bit  of  a  breathing  spell.  It's  annoying  to  have 
had  this  fuss  about  a  simple  little  matter  of  generosity  on 
the  part  of  my  friend,  who,  I  've  no  doubt,  has  been  a  most 
exemplary  husband.  I  '11  see  to  it,  by  Gad,  that  he  re 
ceives  the  proper  apologies.  And,  for  that  matter,  my  wife 
may  have  something  to  say  about  the  outrage  that  has  been 
perpetrated." 

He  took  it  all  very  much  as  if  the  world  owed  him  an 
explanation  and  not  vice  versa.  As  he  was  stalking  from 
the  room,  Brock  bethought  himself  to  ask, — 

"  When  did  you  arrive,  old  man  ?  " 

"Last  night  on  the  12.10.  I  registered  as  Smith'.  It 
was  so  late  that  I  decided  not  to  disturb  Edith.  They  said 
in  the  office  that  you  'd  gone  to  bed,  Brock.  Now  that  I 

[1*4] 


The   Prodigal   Husband 

recall  it,  they  said  it  in  a  very  odd  way  too.  In  fact,  one 
of  the  clerks  asked  if  I  had  it  in  for  you  too." 

"You  were  here  all  night?"  murmured  Constance  in 
plaintive  misery. 

"  Well,  not  precisely  all  night,  Connie.  Half  of  it," 
replied  Roxbury.  "  Brock,  you  ass,  I  telegraphed  you  I 
was  coming  and  asked  you  to  meet  me  at  the  station.  I 
telegraphed  twice  from  London  and — " 

"  Don't  call  me  an  ass,"  grated  Brock.  "  Why  did  n't 
you  send  'em  to  me  as  Medcroft  ?  I  have  n't  been  Brock 
until  this  very  morning." 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  Brock,  it  was  rather  stupid  of  me,"  he 
confessed  sheepishly.  "  But,  you  see,"  with  an  inspired 
smile,  "  one  of  'em  was  to  congratulate  you  on  winning 
Connie.  By  Jove,  you  know,  I  couldn't  very  well  address 
that  one  to  myself." 

"But  —  but  he  hadn't  won  me,"  stammered  Constance 
Fowler. 

"  Edith,"   said    Roxbury,   deep    reproach    in    his    voice, 


week 


ago 


Edith    merely 


"you    wrote    me    that 
squeezed   his  arm. 

Odell-Carney  came  forward  and  extended  his  hand. 
"  Permit  me  to  introduce  myself,  sir.  I  am  George  Odell- 
Carney.  It  has  given  me  great  pleasure  to  serve  you  with 
out  knowing  you.  In  my  catalogue  of  personalities  you 
have  posed  intermittently  as  a  demmed  bounder,  a  deceived 
husband,  a  betrayed  lover,  a  successful  lover,  and  a  lot  of 
other  things  I  can't  just  now  recall.  Acting  on  the  pre 
sumption  that  you  might  have  been  a  friend  in  distress,  I 
worked  hard  in  your  interest.  Now  I  discover,  to  my 
gratification,  you  are  a  perfect  stranger  whom  I  am  proud 
to  meet.  Permit  me  to  offer  my  warmest  felicitations  and 


The    Husbands    of   Edith 

to  assure  you  that  Mr.  Brock  will  make  a  splendid  brother- 
in-law."  He  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  went  on  :  "  So 
you  are  the  chap  that  really  put  in  those  c'n  fended 
memorial  windows.  'Pon  me  word,  sir,  they  are  the 
rottenest  —  " 

"  Carney ! "  came  the  sharp  reminder  from  his  wife. 

"  I  should  have  said,"  revised  Mr.  Odell-Carney,  "  you 
are  the  chap  who  played  the  deuce  with  the  building  grafters 
in  the  County  Council.  Remarkable  !  " 

"Yes,"  said  Roxbury,  striving  to  grasp  something  of  the 
situation  as  it  appeared  to  the  other.  "  We  beat  them. 
The  bill  is  lost.  It  will  never  go  to  the  Council.  The 
sub-committee  will  not  recommend  it.  Thanks,  Brock, 
old  man ;  you  have  saved  London  a  good  many  millions, 
I  daresay.  It  was  you  who  did  it,  after  all." 

Before  noon  the  hotel  was  agog  with  the  full  details  of 
the  remarkable  story.  Cabled  despatches  in  the  newspapers 
gave  the  gist  of  the  clever  trick  played  by  the  Medcrofts, 
and  the  whole  of  England  was  to  ring  with  the  stories 
of  Mrs.  Medcroft's  pluck  and  devotion.  Everybody  was 
buying  the  papers  and  staring  with  admiration  at  Mrs. 
Medcroft. 

The  management  of  the  Tirol  implored  the  Medcrofts 
to  remain — forever!  The  bank  and  the  police  were  pro 
fuse  in  apologies  and  explanations,  and  Mr.  Githens  departed 
by  the  first  train. 

Freddie  Ulstervelt,  killing  two  birds  with  one  stone, 
arranged  a  splendid  dinner  for  that  night  in  honour  of  the 
prodigal  husband  of  Edith  and  also  in  open  compliment  to 
the  vivacious  Mademoiselle  Le  Brun. 

Later  in  the  day,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  just  as 
well  kill  three  birds  as  two,  so  he  planned  to  announce  the 

[126] 


[H 


The    Prodigal   Husband 

betrothal  of  Miss  Fowler  and  Mr.  Brock,  the  wedding  to 
take   place  a  fortnight  hence   in   Mayfair.     The    Rodneys 
were  invited  to  "  stop  over"  for  the  spread.      It  is  left  for 
the  reader  to  supply  the  answer  to  this  simple  question, — 
Did  they  stop  over? 


The  University  Press,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


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